


Tempest

by WeekendWriter



Category: Dying Light (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, POV Original Female Character, Rare Fandoms, Zombie Apocalypse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-20
Updated: 2017-02-11
Packaged: 2018-07-25 14:21:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 12
Words: 48,786
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7536205
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WeekendWriter/pseuds/WeekendWriter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Top agent Jess Harrison has been through hell and back running missions for the Global Relief Effort for some time now. So running another mission in the dangerous Harran quarantine should be no problem, right? Except that in her life, anything that can go wrong always will. Especially when there's a certain loud-mouthed, profane, and immature runner constantly throwing a wrench in her plans.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Departure

**Author's Note:**

> "I know now that man is capable of great deeds. But if he isn’t capable of a great emotion, well, he leaves me cold.”  
> -Albert Camus, The Plague

Closed eyes, tilted head, music that I could barely hear on full blast over the roar of the plane engine: all were in a vain attempt to distract myself from the upcoming mission. I usually tried to take solace in the calm before the storm during a deployment such as this, but the gravity of the situation I was going into crept over the usual stoic calm I could cloak myself with. I opened my eyes, ditched the music, and turned to the pilot’s chair.

“How much longer to descent?” I shouted into the headset.

The pilot casually checked his watch and flight log, then waved a hand nonchalantly. “Five, give or take.”

I inhaled sharply, noting that this would probably be the cleanest air I would breathe until I completed my errands in the quarantine zone. “And the boat will be waiting at the harbor nearby?”  
He shrugged coolly. I envied the apathy he held for what he did. To him, this was just another routine flight that took him near an active hot zone. And fortunately for this bastard, he’d never be ass-deep in the turmoil that actually took place inside. 

“Not my job. But if your people did their jobs, then yeah, it’ll be there waiting by the time you drop.” 

I let the conversation go and leaned back in my seat. That response was honestly more than I was expecting to get out of him after the start of the talk. What he said got to me. _If my people did theirs_ , I scoffed to myself. That question was always on the mind of agents, whether we cared to admit it or not. The Global Relief Effort had a special way of dealing out class-act bullshit even in the middle of the most sensitive missions.

This assignment in particular was the result of their own fuck up, and that was something they definitely didn’t want to admit to. Light poured from the still active city below, calling to me as a last safe haven before my destination; Harran. The quarantine erected to contain the viral outbreak flashed through my mind in the form of pictures I’d seen of it during my few briefings. Kind of like renting a vacation home: the owner will show you the best, most decent photos of the area in the hopes that you’ll rent it without you realizing they might not have been completely honest about the condition. I knew what I was getting into, but I was still holding out for how shitty it would really be inside the quarantine walls. 

Because of a past failure, it was now my job to make a tactical jump into the nearby still-functioning town before boarding a boat that would take me into the quarantined town. All this travel had to be vigorously cleared through the local Ministry of Defense, as they would normally shoot any boat heading to or from Harran on sight. I hoped to hell that the GRE at least did their job of confirming that I didn’t need to be shot. Today, at least. Not over this.

“All set.”

The pilot’s voice in my headset jerked me out of my thoughts. “Shit, now?” I struggled to get my oxygen mask over my mouth and goggles over my face as he gave the sign to drop now. The side door of the plane was stuck shut with years of rust, but I managed to get it open with a few tough yanks. The end of the city’s glow was rapidly approaching, giving me little time to prepare before I launched myself through the opening.

Even without bracing myself for the gut-wrenching drop of falling from such a height, I felt a slow calm creep over my previously tense muscles. Missions had become the center point of my life after devoting all of my time to my job with the GRE, and the only time I really felt right lately was in the act of carrying out mission plans. The ground sped toward me at an alarming pace, and I pulled my rip cord after a few minutes of freefall. 

Thankfully, my quick decision making had prevented me from landing too far from my original drop point. I steered clear from the buildings littering the outskirts of the other city that apparently didn’t sleep and took in the night life noise as the rushing wind slowed around my ears. The ground came up quickly, and I winced at the jolt sent through my hips as my feet contacted the ground. Good thing I didn’t want kids. 

I quickly unbolted the straps holding me in and discarded the parachute on the ground. This far from the quarantine, no one would ask about it, which kept up my cover. _Another part of the so-called ‘GRE plan’ thought of by yours truly_ , I snorted to myself. Armed with only a light military backpack containing the essentials, I took off at a jog to the harbor. 

The GRE plan consisting of three, in my opinion, obnoxiously unnecessary and time consuming parts, irritated me to think about. As the harbor came into view, I resented them even more so for it. I spoke with the Military of Defense officer waiting for me, and he set me up with a local fisherman paid to ship me close enough to the quarantine to swim to the ferry dock that once carried Harran natives from their town to this one. After the quarantine, the ferry was promptly sank when survivors from the hot zone attempted to escape the literal hell that had encompassed their lives in just days. The ferry harbor was to be my entry point, and I would continue into the city from there.

Because simply dropping into the city was too easy. No, a convoluted plan such as this was always the best way to enter a mission, especially into a zone as dangerous as this. Dangerous, I was assuming. The true nature of the inhabitants of the zone (fucking zombies, apparently) was yet another thing I was sure the GRE downplayed in briefings. But I had to admit, the fault that my plan was so complicated instead of a straight-forward drop was the fault of one other person.

Kyle Crane.

He was the reason that, after a quick and wind-whipping late night boat ride through choppy waves, I was leaping into chilly, salty water. I spat out a sour mouthful, cursing his name as I worked my way through the mile-long swim. 

Crane was another GRE agent that I had been fortunate enough to never meet. A cocky but powerful agent who generally always managed to get shit done, from what I’d heard. Crane had been selected by the GRE to infiltrate the quarantine zone and recover a file stolen by rouge GRE agent Kadir Suleiman. Crane had been dropped into the quarantine directly, and due to his actions, that drop apparently ended in an ambush for him and the death of one of our other agents. 

Now Suleiman, I’d met a few times before. He had been hired on missions before this. His no-nonsense approach to assignments made him more capable than most to handle the morally questionable missions of the GRE over the last few years. The public face of the GRE was relief effort by the people, with the people in mind, but if the public knew some of the shady missions that they had been involved with, I’m sure the organization would be depended upon much less in times of crisis. I had doubted that, as someone who had always questioned the rules, Suleiman was the right man to send into the now government-less and rule-less state of Harran when the outbreak first happened, but what the fuck do I know about anything?  
After the death of his brother, Suleiman blamed the GRE and then promptly went off the deep end. Whole situation brought out the kinds of traits that only those of us who had worked with Suleiman before knew he had. After finding several like-minded survivors, he set up shop as the area’s newest asshole dictator with not a care for anyone but himself. How he treated his thugs was nothing compared to how he treated the locals, but the only time that became a problem for the GRE was when he stole a top-secret file about the outbreak. _Tempest_ , it was called. How fitting.

Crane was the agent sent in after Suleiman, to figure out where he was and to figure out if stealing the file back was possible. Leaving Suleiman dead or alive was up to Crane, as long as he was able to get the document back before Suleiman was able to use or publish the file in any way. 

My arms cut through the chop of the waves, and I took in shallow breaths as I sped up my strokes. I didn’t want to be in the water longer than I needed to, although it was probably safer than being on land at night. I wasn’t looking forward to dealing with something like zombies in the dark, even after all of my night training. 

Slowly but surely, I reached the barge protruding from the ferry dock. I slowed my pace to quiet my strokes and edged around with my head barely above water. In between waves, I could hear the sounds of quiet conversation, of muffled shuffling, and I squinted in the glare of tinted, violently blue UV lights surrounding the barge. Definitely set up as a camp for survivors. According to my intel, this wasn’t where Crane would be, and that was a good thing.

My mission cover was to pose as just another survivor unfortunate enough to be trapped in the city when the outbreak happened, so I couldn’t afford to run into anyone this early. That could label me as a newcomer to the city, and I’d seen how well that worked for Crane. 

I floated closer to the cement edge and grasped it with my fingertips. When I was comfortably sure that no one else was around, I hoisted myself up and slid over the ground in a crawl. Nobody was present near me, but I could still hear the whispers of nearby conversation. I stood slowly and edged around the outside to keep a distance from the chatter, my intact cover the most important thing on my mind. Once I left the concrete, I stepped backwards into the darkness, grateful that I would soon be far enough from the camp not to have to worry.  
Of course, nothing is ever allowed to go that easy when you’re running missions for the GRE.

At that moment, my back connected with something solid. I turned and realized I’d hit the back of a man, presumably a guard. He was also pacing nearby, gun holstered to his hip, machete in hand. A muted look of shock came over his face as he turned to see me. I froze in place. My eyes darted toward the camp. His gaze followed and returned back to me rapidly.   
Fuck. He was going to assume I was trying to attack the camp, or assume something else sinister of my intentions. And he’d be right. Fuck if I was going to let my plan and stealth be blown minutes into the operation; I’m no Kyle Crane. 

Never let anything stop you from protecting your cover or from completing the mission. That was GRE agent ‘rule number one.’ A rule I had been repeatedly reminded of from the likes of people like Kadir Suleiman.

As the guard turned toward the camp, raising a hand as if he was going to shout to them, I muttered, “Fuck me in the head,” and seized my opportunity. 

I smoothly inched closer until my front was up against his back, locked his neck in a fierce grip in the crook of my arm, tipped his legs out from under him with a well-placed swipe of my own leg, and took him to the ground quietly. He struggled, and as I applied more pressure to his windpipe with my forearm, I placed my other arm over his mouth to mute the struggling cries. He fell still after what felt like a friggin’ eternity. I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding and eased the body off of my own. 

_Great. Less than 10 minutes into the mission and you’ve already killed a guy_.

I glanced down at the sightless eyes that reflected the harsh blue lights streaming around us. 

_But at least your cover is intact_.

The damn zombies would take care of the body for me, provided I leave it somewhere they could find. I was sure that the other guards would assume he’d met an unfortunate end after leaving his post for some unknown reason, and that sat just fine with me. I deftly unbolted his gun holster from his leg and clipped it to my own. Waste not, want not, I guess. I slid the machete through the straps of my backpack and dragged him over the dirt to the nearby road. 

Abandoned cars littered the street, some open and gutted for whatever goodies may lie inside. The windshields glinted in the moonlight, eerily quiet and unlike the cars zooming through the streets in the city I’d just come from. There was something alien, something not right about how looking at the landscape made me feel. I left the guard on the other side of one of the cars, out of the line of sight of the camp. He’d be gone by daybreak. And what did it matter, anyway? He probably would have been dead inside a week anyway. This entire place was a graveyard; not just for people but for the cars, for the aspects of life considered so normal and essential to others. A graveyard for everything, really. 

I breathed in, breathed out. Keep calm. Continue on. 

Following closely next to the cars for cover, I made my way up the street. The sky to the east was lightening. I glanced at my watch: 4am. It would soon be light, which meant that I could continue on the mission to find Crane. But for now, I needed to find somewhere safe to wait out the night. 

That point was emphasized when suddenly, a guttural wail echoed through the spaces between the cars around me. I froze. It was a sound unlike anything I’d ever heard before. The wail was followed by chattering that was punctuated with loud breathing. 

_Fuck_. 

If I could hear breathing, whatever it was had to be close. Too close for comfort. I forced myself to put one foot in front of the other slowly, spreading the bones of my feet to make for softer steps. The breathing continued. I passed one car, and then another, and slowly the dread began to be replaced by calm.

Wrong assumption. 

As I rounded the hood of the last car, I turned and saw what looked like the silhouette of a tall man. But there was something as equally alien about the shape of the figure as the abandoned cars I’d just weaved through. Red eyes stared back at me and there was a moment of pause before the same terrifying scream ripped through the street, louder than before.

You’ve got to be shitting me. I abandoned all hope of stealth and took off sprinting. The haggard breathing followed at an alarming pace. I panted through my sprint; the screams that were following me were considerably more concerning than those of my lungs. I continued up the street. Another row of cars came into view on the street down the hill from me. I weaved my way down a slightly steep rock face until I hit the pavement again and began vaulting over the hoods of the abandoned cars with intentional force. _Come on, come on, come on…_

Finally, on the fourth car, I bounded over the hood hard enough that the force set the car alarm off. The noise shattered the otherwise silence of the night, evoking other primal cries from further away. The thing chasing after me gave pause to the car alarm going off, darting around it to look for the source of the noise. I heard tearing and scratching at metal, and another frustrated scream as the alarm was abruptly cut.

Ahead of me, I recognized the harshness of UV lighting, surrounding what looked like chain link fence. With renewed vigor, I raced toward my only hope of survival. No holes in the fencing meant it was indeed a safe place, but how to get in? I spotted a large, metal sliding gate under a sign and headed that way. Bodies ambled around the entrance, close to what looked like large spiked traps set to keep them from getting too close to the gate. 

_Fucking zombies_.

I dashed through the crowd, avoiding the hands that grabbed at me. Adrenaline coursed through my system, and as I felt a hot clawing at my arm, I launched myself up toward the top of the gate. My hands gripped the top edge as my feet scrambled on the wall, and with one heave, I hoisted myself up, out of reach of the moaning monsters grabbing at my retreating feet. I hauled myself over and fell ungracefully onto the ground, grunting as I tumbled, until I finally came to a stop on my back. The pounding of feet accompanied by continual chattering reached the area around the gate and suddenly stopped, followed by one last angry growl. I knew then that I was definitely safe, and I let out a shaky laugh as the adrenaline in my system faded slowly. 

“The hell do you think you’re doing?”

I turned to face the man approaching me and managed to sputter out, “Sorry.” 

“I’d hope so. All that noise? You think it’s a good idea drawing that many Volatiles here?” The man glanced down at me, disapproval showing on a face shadowed by a baseball cap. His features were stern, although I wasn’t sure if that was from me or just his normal face.

 _Volatiles_. So that’s what those things were. Figures there were different, more deadly kinds of monsters here that the GRE shitheads hadn’t warned me about. _Thanks for the heads up, assholes_.

I fought to keep my features light and unsurprised at his comment. “I know, I know.” I sat up. “I really am sorry. I got caught in a shop and just managed to make my way out. Figured it was safer to make a break for here than to wait it out there. Volatiles and all, ya know?”

My upbeat attitude didn’t seem to convince him completely. He still stared at me through narrowed eyes. I hauled myself upward and repeated, “I really am sorry. I won’t be here long, I promise. I’ll be getting back to the Tower to help with things once it gets light.”

The weight of name dropping the Tower seemed to relax his tense stance a little. “You’re one of the runners from the Tower?”

Here’s where I had to tread carefully. I knew from my briefings based on the information from Crane that there were several people that made errands for the Tower and helped secure the area. Runners, they were called. “No, but I figured that surviving on my own out here probably isn’t the safest option anymore. Safety in numbers and all. Figured I’d drop by and start offering help to keep safe.”

He nodded slowly. The people of the Tower seemed to do enough good that their reputation slowed the guy’s vetting. “Well. Yeah. Just be more careful next time. These fences aren’t indestructible.” With that, he turned back to where he was, in fact, working on said gate, crouched next to an open tool box. 

I headed further into the camp towards the first building. The downstairs was split into a shop and a resting area, separated by a stone wall. I raised my hand in a wave to the shopkeeper, who responded in like, before I noticed a couch in the patio area. Good a place as any, I guess. I removed the machete from my back and dropped onto the couch. Tomorrow, the real task would begin. Getting into the city was the easiest part of this endeavor, I realized. The red, unblinking eyes of the Volatile were imprinted on the backs of my eyelids. This would be like no other deployment I’d faced as an agent. In more ways than one, too. My job here wasn’t to retrieve any data, or to regain control of a foreign country through helping the local military.

The importance and effects of Tempest were far reaching. My mission was Kyle Crane. The GRE felt, after his latest transmissions and actions, that they weren’t sure he would get the job done. Getting too attached to subjects, that was the most obvious tagline in his agent file. There was doubt from upstairs that he would be able to infiltrate the city and reclaim the file. The file was everything; it couldn’t be left in the hands of Kadir ‘Dictator’ Suleiman. My mission was to get close and watch Crane for signs of failure, signs that he wasn’t capable to do the job.

The very last briefing before the plane came to mind. The Director of the GRE circling me, showing me the quarantine files. _All you have to do_ , she had said, _is babysit. Track him. See if he’s complying with our orders_.

 _How?_ I’d questioned. I didn’t know him, sure, but how would I keep cover?

 _You’re smart. You’re pretty. You take no bullshit. No way Crane wouldn’t be ‘interested’ in you. If you have to play that angle, do it. Do whatever you can to get as close to him as possible. That way, if necessary, you can take him out no problem. We have no room for insubordinate agents here. Everything we have built, and even keeping the rest of the world safe from the Harran quarantine, rests on getting this file back. And if Crane becomes a problem for us, we’ll need you to handle it_.

Handle it. The GRE’s favorite euphemism for murder. 

I wondered briefly when I’d let myself sink low enough to become an assassin for hire, but the job perks and the insane salary (and bonus for the risk associated with the quarantine) came to mind. I let the machete lean against the side of the couch and tipped my head back to rest my eyes.


	2. Harran

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Jess decides to wax poetic about the joys of boob sweat and we get our first interactions between Jess and Crane.

Heat. Stifling, choking, unbearable heat settled on the city by only eight in the morning. I scrambled up the side of a building and vaulted over the other side to the next. The beads of sweat running down my face were probably sweating beads of their own by now. The suffocating, all-encompassing heat mixed with the dominating smell of decay created horrible air quality in the city. It almost pained me to think about how the odor of rotting human flesh barely bothered me after the missions I’d run before. I’d been exposed to too many kinds by now: decaying flesh, burning flesh, even the smell emitted by the slowly bubbling flesh left on the asphalt below, all weren’t new to me. 

The climate was not new to me either, and that one was less depressing to think about. I’d been to deserts, war zones, war zones in deserts, and the oppressive Harran heat was just as bad. Slightly familiar, if I was being honest. Felt like a long lost home, in a weird way. Sweating alone was probably half of the cardio I’d gotten in the last five years of my life. The droplets that went flying as I launched myself from rooftop to rooftop felt almost cathartic. 

Boob sweat, though. Boob sweat was endlessly annoying, no matter how much I tried to get used to it. I kept on running, very much aware that I’d probably have to burn the clothes I’d packed for this mission by the time I was back home. But the sweat wasn’t the only reason for that. The next rooftop I flung myself up to had an occupant. I dodged around the outstretched arms and moan of frustration before I silenced them with a flick of the machete, decapitating the zombie completely. A mix of blood and pus sprayed, some landing on the front of my shirt. 

_Goddamn_ zombies. Almost nine in the morning and I already needed another change of clothes.

I kicked the still-teetering body out of my way and focused my sights on my destination. The Tower, which had previously emerged from the far distance, now loomed much closer. I paused for a second, breathing in the stale air. This would probably be one of the last moments I could relax and be myself. For the next who knows how many days, I would be subject to the scrutiny of the inhabitants of the Tower as I sought to convince them that I was from the area and was a suitable runner that could provide aid.

When I’m by myself, I have to admit I’m somewhat of a dork. I still, even in my adult age, love techno and house music, a pastime I would be able to indulge in during stolen moments here thanks to a small, high tech radio the GRE had provided per my request. Music was a huge part of my life; I’d even learned to play guitar on my last long mission. I’m a foodie, and puns are my long-time favorite kind of humor. I have a deep hatred for the many disguises I’d held as an agent, and was absolutely thrilled to be back to my normal dark-brown haired, blue eyed self for this mission. 

The Tower was soon within reach. I wandered the outside, looking for the entrances. Two were available; one directly up a set of concrete stairs, the other on the north side of the building. Both were encased in what looked like intricate electric fencing, although neither fences were currently live. I wondered if it was triggered by a switch or by weight, but as I passed through the main entrance, I remained un-fried. Good.

To my left, a concrete wall separated me from the floor above, from which I could hear the sound of regular conversation. Life in a lifeless city. I leaped, grabbed the edge of the wall with my fingertips, and hauled myself up to stand.

A guard turned his attention to me, rifle in hand, although to his credit he didn’t raise it in the usual trigger-happy manner I was accustomed to. “Can I help you?” He even sounded polite.

The usual flattering-but-fake smile worked itself across my features without much effort. I’d learned the art of deception well; a staple for anyone working for the GRE. I wondered briefly how well Crane had learned these tricks, and if he would sense them from me. “Yeah, is there anyone in charge here I could speak to?” The slightest tenseness found its way to his forearms, and I quickly worked to diffuse the situation. “I’m Jess. I’m from the east side. Been scavenging on my own for a while, but with the dead getting more, dead I guess, and food becoming more difficult to come by, I figured this would be a safe place to come to.”

He relaxed, as I knew he would, and said, “Oh. Yeah. In that case, follow the hallway around the corner there and there’s an elevator that will take you up to our headquarters. Someone will probably be there that you can talk to.”

I followed his direction, musing about how impressive it was that they still had a working elevator as I pressed the button. The ride up was smooth and silent. The door opened, and I worked my way around the caging that encased the entrance of the elevator. Large, black-inked letters and an arrow pointed my way to their ‘HEADQUARTERS’, and I braced myself before knocking at the green door that awaited me. A deep and gruff voice floated to me from under the door.

“…just have to do this run that Lena told me about and I’ll be on my way. No. Yeah, I get it. Antizin. But we won’t need to bother with it if we all get killed from this fake shit.”

The door opened and a beautiful face peered out. A wide yet delicately featured face, dark-lined eyes, long hair tied back with dreaded strands threatening an escape. She stared, unimpressed, giving my stern face a run for its money, until I said, “Uh, the guard told me to come up? Said there was someone here I could talk to?”

“What do you need?” She responded in a snap, clearly unfazed by my appearance at their door. Everything about her no-nonsense attitude and stance told me she had a million other important things to do than be talking to me right now. One hell of an impression, given her petite stature.

I liked her immediately. “I want to help.” Figured cutting to the chase would make her more agreeable to me.

“Sorry, I’ve got too much going on to be responsible for another new scout.”

The deep voice cut in from behind her. “Come on, Jade. I’m hardly someone who needs watching. Unless you’re trying to watch more than you’ve already seen.” The cocky retort led to a fairly tall man leaning casually on the closed double doors to the side of the small room. A grin met me that reached his dark eyes, under short equally dark hair. 

Crane. 

It had to be him. I doubted the Tower was big enough for two cocky assholes looking to infiltrate and trick its inhabitants. I realized with a start that I was staring as Jade’s voice snapped me back into reality.

“Not even if you were the last man in this tower. But since you are all about seeing new things, why don’t you take her? Show her the prowess of your amazing free running.” The sarcasm dripping from the smaller woman’s voice lent me to liking her even more, and I smirked as the grin dropped from his face. Jade continued, letting him know this wasn’t up for discussion. “If she wants what we have to offer here, she will have to earn it. Just like you. And if she has survived as long as she has alone here, she is probably just as capable as you. So take her with you to the pharmacy for backup.”

Her disappearance left Crane crossing his arms and staring at me. I stared unflinchingly back, refusing to be intimidated or infatuated by him. He was considerably taller than me, and the smirk reformed on his face as I held his gaze. He seemed to be coming to terms with his assigned fate.

“Alright, little lady. You want to prove yourself? Let’s see what you’re made of.”

Knowing I was ‘made of’ the same stuff as him, considering we had gone through the same training for GRE missions, gave me confidence. “What’s the mission goal?”

He seemed surprised at my directness. Hmm. I’d probably have to take the business attitude down a notch, or it might raise his suspicions. After all, I needed to do a better job hiding my GRE identity from him than he was doing hiding it from the people here. 

He uncrossed his arms. “Some asshole decided to stockpile empty Antizin bottles and refill them with just any old shit in order to make a quick buck. A few people are already sick. It’s our job to track the fucker down and make sure to put him out of business.”

My brow narrowed slightly. He carried the same mission orient that I was used to from a GRE agent, yet this wasn’t the mission he was supposed to be working. From my brief moment seeing his interactions with Jade, it seemed to me he had already done enough to earn his place and keep his cover as just another runner in the quarantine. That cover was required of a mission like this, but he was just wasting time now. This pharmacy run wouldn’t put him any closer to finding Suleiman, and even if he had already found the traitor, it wouldn’t bring him any closer to ending him and taking the file back.

So why?

I followed him absentmindedly as he led me back to the elevator. Was there some point to this mission that I was missing, or was he actually wasting his time with outside tasks instead of doing his job? Was this what the GRE Director had been concerned about? And why she’d taken the protective measure of sending me here to make sure the file would be secured?

“Hey. Earth to Jess.”

“Hmm?” I started as I realized he was talking to me. “What did you say?”

He hit the emergency stop and turned to me, his expression suddenly serious. I took a step back and he leaned in, resting one hand on the wall behind me, closing me in. My eyes met his, refusing to stray to the other areas of his face. Hmm. They were lighter than I thought, more of a chocolate brown. The light brown searched blue, before he said, “Listen. I don’t need you getting my ass killed out there because you aren’t focused on this mission. I’ll leave your ass to the infected if I have to. If you’re not as in this as you say you are, I don’t need to waste my time sticking my neck out for you. Got it?”

I swallowed in confusion, although I’m think he took it as me being intimidated, because he answered for me, “Right, got it.” Pushed the button for the bottom floor again.

So. He _definitely_ was still driven, with the ‘get shit done’ GRE mindset. So why wasn’t it focused on the file? To say I was perplexed was putting it lightly. Maybe this mission wasn’t to be as straightforward as I’d expected. And that was annoying. Stupid Kyle Crane, messing things up for me again.

Still in thought, I followed him to the quartermaster, where he exchanged casual conversation with the man and began picking through the limited number of items available at the table in front of him. Over his shoulder, he asked, “Do you have weapons?”

“Machete and a gun,” I replied promptly. No need for him to yell at me again. 

“Flashlight?” He added.

“Mmn.”

He tossed me a medkit and a bottle of alcohol. I raised one eyebrow and he returned to his usual demeanor, giving me a wink over the bottle. “In case you need to set something on fire.”

“Oh, of course. Naturally.” I shoved the bottle unceremoniously into my backpack.

Crane snorted at my sarcasm. For the briefest second, I wondered if we might have been friends in a different situation. _No way_. We were nothing alike, according to his file. That, and so far what I’d seen of his cocky demeanor, were enough for me to dislike the man. That dislike was no doubt going to put me at odds with my own mission. I hoped to God he did what he was told by the Director, that it wouldn’t come to me having to seduce him or something. 

Without waiting for me, he made the leap down from the ledge and headed toward the main exit. I slung my backpack on, gripped my machete, and followed. He was already out the front entrance and down the concrete stairs at a slight jog. My mouth twitched. Seeing if I was going to put my money where my mouth was, if I could keep up with him. I sprinted enough to catch up and fell into a casual jog behind him. Zombies piled up ahead; he pushed through without stopping and launched himself up to a nearby building off of a ramp. The zombies shoved in closer to each other. I put my foot up against the wall of the building next to me, launched myself up to step on the shoulder of one, and pushed myself off of it, up to the target building.

Crane was watching me. I saw mild surprise at my actions in eyes. Once he was sure I was up the building safely, he continued. 

The way to the pharmacy was a minefield of zombies, places to fall, leftover gas tanks that were to be avoided at all costs. I could see from my runs through the city so far that there had been plenty done to set the place up for runners. Boards set up as ramps to make jumps easier, arrows spray painted on walls and floors to indicate the best paths to take, and pieces of wood linking rooftops together all made the journey five times easier than it should have been. It seemed to me that the survivors in Harran were more capable than the GRE made them out to be. The survivors were somehow making things work, figuring out the best and safest ways to continue on. 

Some streets below were almost empty but the larger ones were completely congested with shuffling bodies that stopped only to groan up at us from the safety of the rooftops. There were too many to count. The impressive amount of noise created as a collective from the groaning reminded me of the angry buzzing of a hive of bees. I smiled to myself at the thought.

Watching Crane was rather impressive, too. He made the jumps and bounds quickly and with the ease of practice even though I knew he hadn’t been here long. Pulling himself up walls was done in one fluid motion that was pleasing to the eye to watch; almost like dancing, in a way. The man was an artist at finding the quickest and most efficient routes. He made one last jump and then crouched behind the wall surrounding the roof. I followed suit. I hated to admit it, but I was glad we seemed to be at the destination; I had been starting to slow. I was also painfully aware as time went on that I was far less graceful at city running than he. I drew in quick breaths as I ducked by him. 

“Okay, here’s the plan.” He glanced over the wall at the offending building ahead of us. “I got word of some guy producing fake Antizin out of this pharmacy. I can already see one guy on guard on the second floor balcony over there. There’s roof space above him that I want you to get to once I head over there and distract him. They probably already know I’m coming, but you’re the element of surprise in case things go sour. I doubt the assholes will want to talk things through, so you’ll need to back me when it comes to a fight.”

Briefly I wondered if my mission could really be this easy; provoke a fight with the locals, get Crane killed. The GRE wouldn’t even bat an eye. They’d just send in another capable agent for the file. Or just tell me to get it since I’m already here. Judging by how much busy work he was letting himself get roped into, the file would be back in the hands of the GRE much quicker that way. 

Got it? Can I trust you?”

I stared into chocolate brown eyes as I mulled his question over. I told myself that plan wouldn’t be the best outcome, and I also told myself that the light, hopeful eyes had nothing to do with my decision. “Yeah. You can.”

He seemed fine with my simple answer and crossed the gap to the pharmacy in one leap. I heard him talking with the guard. As promised, both men had their backs turned toward me. I climbed over the wall and edged over to the further side of the pharmacy. One quick leap was all it took, and then I was hauling myself up to the roof. I crawled across the metal until I was out of sight in time for Crane to drop down to the ground where the rest of the guys in the camp were waiting. 

Casual conversation happened as Crane interacted with one man in particular. His voice sounded sleazy, like the kind of guy who had no problem selling fake medicine to sick people. It sounded like he was trying to persuade Crane to buy from his stash of bullshit until I saw Crane stumble back from a forceful kick. The two guys standing to the further edge of the camp stalked closer as Crane withdrew a machete and engaged the ringleader. 

I slowly withdrew my own machete as the pair moved in on Crane. I drew in one quick breath and then pounced.

My leap took one of the two down and I plunged the machete straight through the guy’s chest. Blood flew as I withdrew it, the other guy rapidly backing off as he shouted, “WHAT THE-” I silenced him with a good swing that nearly took his head clean off. The blow was enough for him to at least bleed out, I was sure, and I turned to see Crane hop up to the balcony to finish the last guy off. The ringleader was left dead on the ground, nearly severed in half from Crane’s blows. _Yeesh_. He looked about as sleazy as he’d sounded. 

I glanced around the camp. There was an open van with duffle bags inside that yielded no treasures after a quick investigation. I turned my attention to the inside of the pharmacy. Vials of so-called Antizin littered the tables and floor. Boxes of gauze were stacked up on shelves. Even a few bottles of antibiotics were lying around the fridges. This was a good find. The meds left here were a good enough reason to have come, even if we hadn’t come to kill some conniving asshole. 

Crane landed in the area before the pharmacy entrance with a thud. He was wiping his own machete clean with careful thought and muttering to himself something about a shady motherfucker getting what he deserved. When he remembered with a start that I was there, he cleared his throat and asked aloud, “Anything good?”

“Antizin bottles.” I flicked my hand to indicate them in the hopes that he wouldn’t focus on me. I was trying to hide a smirk and wondering if he talked to himself like that often. “They’ll need to be destroyed. Supplies in the cabinets; looks like bandages and antibiotics. We hit a pretty good score.”

He made a face that let me know that he was impressed with my findings and set to collecting the offending Antizin bottles. I found a nearby bag that the pharmacy guys no longer needed and began filling it with as many goodies as I could. 

We worked quietly and efficiently together until he looked around, satisfied with our work, and said, “Let’s get back.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To all those of you reading so far, thank you for taking the time to do so! I hope you're enjoying reading it as much as I have enjoyed writing it. I will try to have the next few chapters up in a more timely fashion, as I know the beginning is a bit slow, but there will be much more action later for the pair of GRE agents.


	3. Runaway

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Jess inserts herself further into life in the Tower and aids with a particularly difficult mission.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those of you who have noticed where I'm getting my chapter titles from, gold star for you. Thanks to all of you who have been reading so far and are continuing to do so. Again, if you have any comments or feedback, feel free to let me know!

The run back to the Tower was uneventful, something I greatly appreciated given how much work it had taken to shut down the pharmacy. The last thing I needed during the semi-long run back was to get sidetracked by more bullshit. It was just passing two o’clock by the time I followed Crane up the cement steps and into the sanctuary that was the Tower. 

The guard I had spoken to earlier was still on watch and threw a friendly smile my way as I heaved up to the first floor. “Hey, good job you guys. That looks like a lot of stuff for Lena to make use of.” 

“Yeah, thanks,” was Crane’s short reply. He briskly led me back to the elevator and waited for its slow descent. “Once we get this stuff to Lena, I’ve got another job to do.”

I raised a brow in response. “And what should I do to help?”

He chuckled as the elevator door opened but said nothing as we rode up. In the sick bay on the eighteenth floor, I met the resident doctor of the Tower; Lena. A pretty face, but a victim to resting bitch face if I’d ever seen one. And as a proud member of that community, I felt I could safely judge. 

She was as stoic as Jade but much less intimidating. Another no-nonsense type, if I had to guess. Seemed to be the one of the only types of people that not only survived but thrived in the run-down city. She ironically puffed on a cigarette as Crane handed over our supplies and described how the run went, including the part where someone had apparently sold him out to the ringleader. That explained the ambush that Crane had needed my backup for. She chuckled lightly at his threats against the snitch and replied cheekily, “Not if Bahir gets to him first.” 

Without waiting for me, Crane turned and headed out for the stairs. I followed, acutely aware of the fact that he was trying to leave me behind. Bastard was up to something he didn’t want me to be a part of, if I had to guess. _Not on my watch, or on my mission_. When he reached the headquarters, he stuck a hand out with the intent to barge right in but was interrupted by Jade’s sudden appearance. She reached her hand out to his chest and pushed him back slightly. 

“Brecken has not changed his mind about what we talked about before,” she said urgently. “He still wants to go, and we’ve got to talk him out of it. I called everyone together to see if we could all change his mind. So please. Act confident.”  
To say I was confused was an understatement. Who the hell–? Crane nodded and pushed his way through the doors. Jade looked me over but didn’t say anything hostile as I moved to follow. 

Inside, several people were seated in chairs, leaning on couches, or just standing in close proximity around a large table near the door. My eyes briefly passed over a large map of the city with blueprints scattered on top of it. A man was leaning back on his palms on the table, glancing unimpressed at what was unfolding around him. I grimaced at gauze wrapped insistently around the man’s head. I followed Crane in and the man passed the indifferent gaze over the both of us. The bandages looked worse from the front. Under the gauze sat a strong brow, sharp nose, and stubble-dusted jaw that served to further emphasize the sternness of the gaze. Even though the gauze showed signs of day-old wear, his clothing was still worn and bloodied, most likely from whatever had given him the injury.

“Brecken, you can’t go out there again,” Jade was saying. “We’ll get someone else to go for the next DROP–”

A chorus of agreeance sounded at this. These were all runners, I realized, offering to go out on a mission that this Brecken seemed set on going on. The head injury had to be why Jade wanted to talk him out of it, and I didn’t blame her. Idiot would get himself killed going out there with a wound like that. 

“I’ll go.” Crane’s strong interjection, as confident as Jade had asked for, silenced everyone in the room and finally got a reaction out of the expressionless Brecken.

The man rubbed his eyes, then paused with his hand still in the air. “Would you guys give us the room?” The quiet yet commanding voice had everyone all too willing to clear out. 

Jade passed Crane with an intense gaze that clearly read _don’t fuck up_ , while a young man resembling her intense, dark eyes flashed a thumbs up and a weak smile at the GRE agent while he passed. 

Brecken’s gaze lingered on me when I hadn’t moved. I said strongly, “Whatever needs done, I’m happy to help with as well.” I clapped a hand to Crane’s surprised shoulder in solidarity before striding out of the room after everyone else.

The kid who’d given Crane the obvious signs of reassurance was waiting in the hallway as I emerged from the tenseness left by Brecken. “Hey, newbie.” His tone was friendly enough, if not somewhat cocky, but it suited him more than it did Crane. “The guard told me about the pharmacy run this morning. Not bad for your first mission.”

I realized instantly he was talking like he was someone in charge. But the un-tattered long sleeves and too-clean boots clued me in on the fact that he wasn’t a runner. “Uh, thanks man. Happy to be here to help. What’s going on with all that?” I raised a hand to indicate the room we had all just left.

He grimaced. “Brecken, the guy in charge, tried to make a run for a DROP last night too close to sunset. He got stopped by Rais’ men and they beat him to shit before stealing the drop. So Lena and Jade don’t want him going out while he’s still all–” He wobbled in comic effect to indicate unsteadiness brought on by head trauma.

I couldn’t suppress a grin at the kid’s description of Brecken’s injury. “I’m surprised Jade talking to him wasn’t enough reason for him not to go. I’d hate to get on her bad side.”

After rolling his eyes, the young man said, “Don’t let her bullshit you. My sister is tough, sure, but she knows the boundaries here. Brecken is the one in charge for a reason.”

So there were reasons for the hierarchy I’d witnessed in place already. At least, they thought there were. “Right. And you are?”

“Rahim. I’m also the one to talk to if you want shit to get done around here.”

My eyebrows shot up at the kid’s certainty. “Well, Rahim, I could use something to eat if I’m going to go back out again later.”

“If?” Rahim chuckled darkly. “You’ll be lucky if you have any time to rest between now and when you die.”

Not much for pep talks, this one. “When you put it that way, I definitely could use some food.”

The kid led me to what was apparently the mess hall for the countless inhabitants of the Tower. Shelving in the back of the room held a good amount of stacked cans. I noticed a rather rusted can opener on a counter next to the apparently still-working range. _Huh. They really do have a lot of good things here considering the whole apocalypse thing_ , I mused. Rahim tossed me a can of what appeared to be ham; the dusty label left much to be desired in the advertising department. 

“Man, I never thought I’d miss the fucking lunch ladies from school.” 

He chuckled at my joke and headed back toward the door. “Seriously, if you need anything while you’re here, let me know. Something tells me you’re more capable than most, and I may need that down the road.”

And with that, I was left alone, mulling over his odd comment. I was sure I would find out what he meant by that soon enough. Rahim didn’t seem the type to drop something on his mind, no matter how unpractical or unapproachable. The canned ham beat the shit out of eating nothing, I supposed, as I gutted the can open and examined the contents. I was digging through the bottom half of the can with a bent fork when Jade appeared in the door.

“Brecken wants you.” The short utterance was the only thing I got from her before she turned and strode away.

Not much for words, that one. Although I couldn’t blame her for being so busy, given the zombie apocalypse and all. I headed back to their headquarters.

Brecken and Crane stared as I continued to dig through my bounty. I froze, fork half way to my mouth, when I noticed. “What?”

Neither addressed the situation, although Brecken finally said, “We’ve come to an understanding here. Crane is going for the next DROP. We need Antizin badly, and tonight might be our last chance to get some before…” He trailed off, starting when he realized he had paused. “I know you’re new here, hell I hadn’t even met you before now myself, but right now that mission takes top priority. So I want you to go with Crane. Make sure nothing slows him down.”

Despite the fact that they had surely discussed this before my entrance, Crane looked slightly unhappy with the arrangement. He even spoke up. “Brecken, I can do this on my own. There’s no need to run up extra man power just because–” 

“Crane, mate, I’m not arguing with you.” Brecken’s tone definitely invited no argument. “You’re going with this plan, or you’re not going at all. And we need you to go. Because – fuck, if I’ve got to go to Rais for Antizin instead… I’ve about had it with that sick fuck–”

It all suddenly clicked in my head. Crane was concerned about how this mission would go because it could potentially put him in the path of Suleiman. Who else could Brecken be talking about? From the sound of the last transmissions, Crane hadn’t yet identified where Suleiman was. Going to him for Antizin would lead him directly to the man.

But nobody in the Tower knew what I knew; least of all Crane. “Don’t worry, Brecken. I’ll watch his back,” I reassured as Crane pursed his lips. 

“Come on,” Crane finally grumbled. “We need to head out that way before it gets too late.”

 

According to Jade, most of the DROPS made their way into the Cauldron area, so that’s where Crane directed me as we dashed through the city. The sun was already fading into the mountains surrounding the city by the time we had geared up and left the Tower. After a still-hot and sweaty run through the streets, Jade’s voice cracked over the radio.

_Once you get there, just find somewhere to hole up until it gets closer to sunset. And be prepared. The second the plane goes overhead, Rais’ men will be ready, and you’ll need to beat them there_.

I paused from my perch on a rooftop above Crane. In the distance, I could make out a blue banner swinging precariously over what looked like an open window. 

SURVIVORS INSIDE, it read. 

“Crane, do you see that?”

He turned toward where I was looking and wipied sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand. “I’ll be damned.”

I swung down from my spot and bounded over the rooftops toward it. There were two biters ambling about the rooftop. Crane beat me to the spot and manhandled the two over the edge; they fell to the streets below, one’s head smashing spectacularly like a watermelon against the pavement. I ducked into the open window and glanced around. Papers were strewn everywhere. The stench of decay hung lightly in the air, over an overturned table and open cabinets that looked as though they’d already been rummaged through. I tip-toed to the adjoining bedroom, which was littered with open, semi-packed suitcases.

_Poor bastards hadn’t made it out_ , I guessed.

A sudden coughing and sputtering caused me to jump. Warm, damp hands suddenly grasped my shoulders as the snapping of a biter’s teeth sounded too close to my neck for comfort.

“ _Mother_ fuck–”

I grasped one hand and tried to pull the thing ahead of me, but the arms grabbed and latched on to my frame like some kind of demented, land-bearing octopus. 

As suddenly as it had started, the noise ripped away from me as Crane grasped the remaining tuft of hair on the biter’s head and wrenched it to the ground, where he promptly crushed the decaying skull against the carpet with a grunt. 

I breathed heavy and leaned against my knees. My heart, which I normally considered fit to handle mission surprises such as that, had jackknifed into my throat and was now giving cardiac arrest a run for its money. “Jesus, thanks.”

“Just call me Crane.” Despite the joke, Crane seriously and vainly attempted to rub the blood and bits of skull off of his boot. “Fuckers can still sneak up on you, even with all that breathing. You okay?”

“No bites, if that’s what you mean.” I grimaced at the thought. While the GRE was including a bonus in my contract for that possibility, I had a feeling they wouldn’t take too kindly to removing me from the city if I was infected. At the very least, I knew I wouldn’t enjoy the constant observation and quarantine I’d be placed under. 

He nodded and went in search of the breaker panel for the lights. I shuffled around, examining the boarded windows to make sure they were secure. As the lights jumped to life, I breathed a small sigh of relief. He reemerged and I noticed a somewhat sheepish expression on his face. Upon closer inspection, I noticed his cheeks were a bit more puffed than usual. 

“What in the fuck–?”

Crane adjusted his jaw –chewing, I realized– when I noticed a shiny wrapper peeking out of his pocket. 

_Cookies_ , I deducted. Guy had a fucking sweet tooth. “You’re shitting me. You didn’t even share?”

He tried to smother the sheepishness by saying, “Look, I haven’t had these in fuck only knows when, okay?” But his conscience won out as he reluctantly removed the packet and relinquished the rest to me.

I let a grin escape. Unlikeable guy or not, this whole situation was funny. _Grown-ass man trying to hoard baked goods for himself_. Right after I’d almost been eaten, none-the-less. I voiced that opinion aloud, and was rewarded with a downright guilty groan. “I’m just giving you shit, Crane. I don’t really like sweets, so they’re all yours.”

At that, he looked absolutely offended. When his mouth was finally clear, he said, “Jesus. You always kick a man when he’s down?” 

“Only when I feel like it.” I glanced around at the small apartment again, noting some of the titles on the bookshelf next to the couch. Owner had been a classic, if not cliché, book owner. Faulkner, Poe, Twain. Vonnegut won the apartment owner a few brownie points from me, though. 

“Little lady, big personality.” Crane grinned at his own assessment of me and bit off part of another cookie. 

I threw him a disgusted face. “Don’t call me that. That’s not about to be a thing. Also, do you always talk to yourself like that, or is it a mental thing? A little too much glue as a kid?”

Surprise lit his features. Surprise at my downright goading and sarcasm. I wasn’t going to take it easy on him just because I needed something from him on this mission. I didn’t have to make things easy  
in order to get this job done.

He dropped onto the couch, crossing his legs and resting them on top of the coffee table. “You always insult people who just saved your ass, or am I a special case?”

“You’re special, alright.” Outside the window, something yellow and white caught my eye. “Jesus, is that–?”

A DROP parachute was draped over a nearby rooftop. Somehow, I’d missed it on the way over to the safe house. We both had.

“Christ on a crutch. Come on.” He abandoned the cookie wrapper and jumped off of the couch. I followed him out the open window as he raced up to the rooftop. Through the late-afternoon glare, I could barely make out a container sitting at the beginning of the parachute cables. He barked urgently into the radio, _Jade? I think we might have found something. Standby_.

When I made it up to the top, he was unclipping the straps of the container. I held my breath as he swung the lid up, and my anticipation rapidly faded to be replaced by disappointment.

“Empty,” Crane muttered. “Shit.”

At that moment, I snapped my head up as I detected the faint sounds of an airplane engine. Crane followed my gaze as the standard issue GRE plane appeared in the sky and jetted past us. The back hatch opened and two sets of crates slid out, each with the same yellow and white striped parachute.

_Did you see that?_ Jade’s voice sounded again from the radio.

_Yeah_ , Crane tossed back. _Two crates_.

_Get to them quick, before Rais’ men do_.

We both vaulted down toward the first drop. A column of red smoke was rising from the drop point, signaling to the world where the goods had landed. At least we were close enough that we had a chance of beating them to the punch. We were both at an all-out sprint, a far cry from the slower pace we’d reserved earlier for long distance. Crane reached the point first, but I realized from afar that the safe zone containing the swirling red signal smoke had more visitors than I’d like.

“Shit,” Crane panted angrily. _Jade, Rais’ men got here first_.

_Fuck! Okay, don’t try to fight them for it. Head for the second drop_.

Crane took off, pausing as he noticed I hadn’t moved. “Jess, get your ass in gear!”

Two DROPS meant double the chance that this medicine could be found. And, if I could get just one of those men alive and alone, I could _persuade_ him to give up some information on Suleiman. Enough information to stay a step ahead of Crane, anyway. I did need to prepare for the possibility that the GRE would ask me to secure the file instead, and I needed to know as much as I could possibly learn about the self-proclaimed dictator.

“Just go for the second one!” I stalked quietly toward the chain link fence surrounding the safe zone. 

“Are you fucking crazy?” Crane stayed, eying me as though he thought I had truly lost it.

“You’re wasting time! Do you want to lose the second DROP too?”

He let out an exasperated grunt and turned on his heel to race toward where the second DROP had been heading. 

I scaled the fence quickly. When I dropped in, wincing at the sudden force to my knees, I recovered and withdrew the machete from my back. The thugs were all standing around the crates that had been dropped. One appeared to have been opened and several cans of food were scattered carelessly around the area. _Fucking heathens_ , I thought. No respect for something that plenty of people here had died for. My grip on the weapon tightened as I felt the anger surge. 

Their backs were facing me. One was crouched over the contents of the container. All three were unaware of my presence. I skimmed across the ground, crouched low and out of eyesight, until I edged close enough to the first. 

He didn’t have any time to respond as wrapped my arm around the front of his shoulders, pulled his weight into my front, and drew the machete in a sure, straight line just below the bottom edges of his jaw. 

The arterial spray flooded over the surprised faces of his comrades. I held the struggling body for another few moments before I relinquished my grip and tossed the body to the side, as carelessly as the animals had tossed the precious food found among the treasures dropped from the sky. I’m sure my face read murder, but it was clear that’s how they interpreted it when the first thug inched unconfidently toward me, hatchet raised, while the other began backing away, his fear readable even from a distance. 

The first guy still managed to venomously spit, “You just fucked up,” before he lunged forward.

But the movement was all strength, no skill, and I wondered briefly whether Suleiman had bothered to teach these guys any of the techniques we had learned in training with the GRE. That seemed not to be the case as I easily dodged the bumble and watched as his next swipe sent him off-balance. A quick, blunt flick of my wrist had my machete lodged just above the back of his knee, and he went down with a cry of pain at the resulting severed tendons. 

Fleeing was definitely on the mind of the remaining thug now. He attempted to do so, heading for the front of the chained-in property. I reached down, ignored the flinching from the still-very-much-alive body below me, and pulled a few throwing knives from the front pocket of the fallen thug’s vest. Hm. It had been quite some time since I’d had the opportunity to go for these, but I realized I had time as the runaway hadn’t yet noticed that the gate was definitely chained shut.

I widened my stance for balance, took aim, and extended my arm, following through as the first blade landed between the thug’s shoulder blade and spine. _Not bad_. “Jess leans back into positon as a hush settles over the crowd. She braces for the next throw. Will she make the foul shot? We’re going to have to take this one downtown…” I winded back once more and let another fly, catching the runaway right in the base of his skull as he attempted to hobble away from the last blow. “And it’s nothing but net!”

Sure enough, talking out loud to myself like that seemed to unnerve the guy still seated at my feet, as I’d hoped. Talking out loud to oneself was always a good beginning to any psychological torture. I flashed an open-mouthed grin downward, meeting his terrified eyes. “Think I got him, or should I toss again? Nothing wrong with practice when you’ve been out of the game as long as I have.”

The next toss buried itself immediately under the second knife. A clear indication to the guy that I was, in fact, far from out of practice. I crouched down and he stopped trying desperately to remove the machete from his leg. As though I hadn’t noticed. I kept grinning sinisterly as I took in the petrified expression, the military helmet hanging slightly lopsidedly off of his head, the poorly-painted vest with three yellow, diagonal-but-parallel stripes. His hands gripped the area of his leg around the weapon, fingers clenched through the pain. 

I crouched to put myself face-to-face with the bastard. Gently, I ran my fingers over the hilt of the machete. He braced for pain that didn’t come as I kept my touch light on the end of the weapon. “So. Quite a predicament we’ve got here. You took something of mine, so I think I’m entitled to something you’ve got.”

The man had just enough fight left in him to bark, “You already took my fucking leg! I’m not going to be able to walk on it after this.”

My eyes darkened despite the residual smile, and I jerked the handle of the blade up slightly. He cried out in agony, his weight shifting to his good side. “And you’ve got a lot more to lose if I don’t get what I need.”

Eyes glaring through freshly-sprung tears, he muttered angrily, “What do you want?”

I ran my fingers up the blade, causing him to tense again. The rest of the throwing knives still sat loosely in my other hand, a fact that did not go unnoticed by him. “I need some information. And you’re going to be a good little bastard and tell me what I need to know. I don’t need to point out how many other _appendages_ you’ve got that I haven’t even touched yet.”

He paled at the meaning hidden in the carefully-worded phrase. A ragged breath was drawn in as he considered his options here. Something about that stood out to me. As if the guy had any other options. Here he sat, one leg incapacitated, blood steadily staining the ground below us, and yet he was still weighing the threat behind my words. The thought of what Suleiman would do to the guy if he talked seemed to trump the danger I’d tried to put into my words. I could only imagine what the sick fuck had been up to that gave him the kind of power to make a man hesitate in the face of torture.  
Mind made up, he nodded slightly. “What do you want to know?”

“Well…” I paused, and I was so engrossed in the thought of what exactly I needed to know that when I tilted my head down, I almost missed the winding back as he threw a fist aimed directly at my head. I dodged and grabbed a hold of his wrist with my free hand. The first draw of the point of the blade down his forearm called for a grimace from his part as fresh blood welled to the surface, but the real screams came when I wrenched his arm down, palm up, and drove the throwing knife straight through the twitching hand, into the firm ground. I forced that sinister grin to my face again as his screams slowly subsided to whimpers. “You know, I would tell you not to force me to do things like that but…” I threw a predatory wink at him for more effect. “Keep it up, man. Just means I’ll get even more enjoyment out of this.”

The bob of his Adam’s apple as he swallowed nervously was the first clue to his surrender. The second I slid another throwing knife more comfortably into my open hand, he sputtered, “Wait, wait – no! Alright! What do you want to know?”


	4. For the Greater Good

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Night running at its finest. And Jess learns there may be more to a certain loud-mouthed runner than what her GRE file told her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those of you still reading, thank you so much for your patience. The real world caught up to me with a vengeance this past week (don't grow up it's a trap) but I absolutely promise to have the next chapter up after this one much sooner. Enjoy!

When I finally leaned back from the body slumped in front of me, I had significantly more to think about than I did when I first woke up this morning. Which is saying quite a bit, considering I’d woken up in a damn zombie quarantine. So. The traitor went under the name of Rais now, after his fuming rage and sudden need for revenge had driven him from the GRE. The thug I’d interrogated hadn’t known who Suleiman was before the outbreak; all he had known was that Rais had shown up after the morale of the bandits who’d banded together after the outbreak was reaching a hazardous low point. Although Rais had introduced a kind of code to the bandits and united them under one front, that code clearly wasn’t one I could get behind after my interactions with his thugs so far. 

Suleiman had taken to acquiring everything the men needed, from weapons including firearms, to shelters across the city. He had even found a few working vehicles, which explained how the thugs managed to arrive at every single airdrop ahead of the Tower runners. He gave them a sense of unity, a sense of something to fight for, but most importantly, he kept them safe from the dangers of the city around them.

The question on my tongue as I’d listened to the man below me came back; who was protecting them from Suleiman? The thug had ranted urgently about Rais’ need to subdue his men at any cost, even going so far as to resort to amputating limbs from those who defied him. Publicly, even, as the fucker loved to make an example out of those who dared to think for themselves. It seemed that while he’d rained in the total lawlessness that the city had seen from a mass of bandits running around by themselves, he wasn’t doing the locals any more favors by making it a point to get almost every airdrop that fell from the sky. Especially the Antizin drops. According to my resource, he had been stockpiling the medicine to extort favors from the locals who dared to come to him for help. 

Most importantly, I learned that Suleiman lived in the garrison he housed his thugs in, he maintained some kind of _fighting arena_ for entertainment in the unfinished base of his obnoxious tower, and that the thug had absolutely no idea about the file. 

I wrung my hands as I removed myself from the difficult thoughts and stood from the unfortunate casualty at my feet. By now, the sun was dipping low in the sky. I went to examine the contents of the opened DROP container. The open emergency relief package inside had been rummaged through. Half of its contents made up the food that was scattered along the ground. The rest of the box was still full of vittles, and plenty of them. The other side of the container contained a crate labeled ‘FLARES’. I made a face before I moved over to the other container. More food, and this time a bundle of medical supplies. 

The red smoke was fading from the direction Crane had taken off to. I wondered briefly whether I should follow and help him with that DROP. The idea of leaving these contents vulnerable to both the elements and Suleiman’s thugs didn’t sit right with me, though. As much as the Tower needed the medicine that was possibly in that second DROP, it wouldn’t do them any good to starve to death beforehand. I began hauling the contents of both containers into the small building in the back corner of the safe zone. The stacked boxes made for cramped space, but I knew that by tomorrow Brecken would be able to send help to move them back to the Tower. 

By the time I was done, darkness had descended down upon Harran. Volatiles and fuck only knows what else went bump in this night began emerging from the bleakest points of town, filling the city with loud, harsh breaths that signaled danger. I stalked around the chain-link fence, grateful for the halo of blue UV lighting that kept the worst of the monsters out. 

I raised my radio to my face and attempted to reach Crane. _Crane? Can you hear me? What’s going on with that first crate?_.

Predictably, I got no response. I sighed. I supposed I could either attempt to run in the direction of that faded red flare signal, or I could wait the night out here in safety. 

A curious groan rose above the abundant breathing nearby that echoed through the alleyways. I turned my head that way and paused. Heavy footfall followed the echoing noises in that direction. Something was happening to attract Volatiles that way. What were the odds that that commotion could be anything other than Crane? How many other kamikaze assholes were running missions far too close to night in this city?

Glass breaking further caught the attention of the monsters shambling outside my safe zone. Shortly after, my gaze caught a flashlight bouncing across the distant rooftops. Bouncing from running, I realized. A sudden bombardment of far-off curses sounded as the flashlight’s beam dipped low and hit the ground.

_Definitely Crane_. And as I watched, the running became more frenzied as the uglies of the night pursued. 

Thinking quickly, I raced back to the small building to pry open the flare box. I armed myself with a handful and climbed out of the safety of the encased zone. Fortunately, the zombies in the immediate area were still distracted by Crane’s running. I headed toward his frenzied breathing. There’s no way he would be able to make it all the way back to the Tower with all of those monsters in tow. 

“Crane!” 

Several Volatiles dropped threateningly from rooftops above. I skidded to a halt. _Oh shit_. I tore the top of the flare off with my teeth and nearly blinded myself as the pure deep-blue light poured from the stick. It powerfully illuminated a good few meters around me, and the Volatiles that tensed to pounce suddenly let out echoing screams and attempted to shield their eyes from the light. I could barely make out the flashlight beam now focused on the beacon shining from my grasp. 

I tossed the flare at the Volatiles, effectively scattering them, before I lit two more and threw them in Crane’s direction. “Come on man, this way!”

He dodged and sprinted my way. I realized with a jolt that I was slacking; several other Volatiles had regrouped closer to the safe zone. Two more flares to toss in front of me allowed me to clear a path for Crane. He surged past me and I held my last flare alight in an attempt to ward off the pursing monsters. The second he made it up and over the fence, I ditched the flare and clambered up it myself. Hot, loud breath at my back and feet sent a jolt of adrenaline through my body and I frantically slipped my fingers through the holes of the fence to haul myself to the top. Abandoning any practice I’d had at this before, the second my boots touched the top I leaped in to the safety of the area with a cry. Which effectively left me landing hard on my knees; my ankles gave out slightly, and I tumbled to the ground. 

Crane stood above me, panting heavily as he attempted to catch his breath. “I see… Jesus, now I see what Brecken went through when he had to make it back to the Tower that night. It’s no fucking picnic.”

I glanced up at him from where I was sprawled on the ground. “What the hell were you even doing…?”

A dark look crossed his face so quickly that I would have missed it had I blinked in that moment. He rubbed his face in frustration with his free hand. “There wasn’t any Antizin in that last batch.”

I struggled to my feet and didn’t bother to hide my shock. “You serious? What the hell? There wasn’t any in this one, either.” Something about the odds of that struck me as weird. Why would the GRE have sent two packages so close to sunset with no life-saving medicine in them when the result would be a dangerous night run? That seemed like a lot of work with no payout, and even the GRE weren’t big enough assholes for that.

Unless…

Brecken’s words came back to me in a moment of sudden clarity. 

_We need Antizin badly, and tonight might be our last chance to get some before… Because fuck--if I’ve got to go to Rais for Antizin instead--because I’ve about had it with that sick fuck…_

What if there actually had been Antizin in that last chance?

“Guess we’ll have to figure something else out.” Crane responded when his back was turned which left me unable to gage his expression. With a last glance at the Volatiles still screaming angrily at us in our safe haven, he slouched tiredly toward the small building in the corner of the area. 

I followed, a sudden spring in my step at the thoughts racing through my mind. What if there _had_ been Antizin, and Crane had taken the tactical advantage to force Brecken’s hand and set up a meeting with Rais? My very abundant knowledge and experience with the director of the GRE told me that she would instruct him to do exactly that should the chance arise. _For the greater good_ , she would say. That was always the GRE’s motivation, or so they claimed. And it was a smart move for Crane to make. That could explain why he had been so set on going on this mission alone. Maybe it was a good thing I sat back to settle a few housekeeping measures myself. 

Still, the thought of Crane destroying the medicine these people so desperately needed settled uncomfortably in my chest. That was a feeling I always told myself I couldn’t afford. Crane closed the door behind us as we both settled into the safe room. There was considerably less space in the room from where I’d stacked the contents of the first airdrop, but still enough that the sleeping bag and duffel laid out were out of the way as we both slid to sit against the wall on opposite ends of the room. 

Crane shook his backpack from his shoulders and rolled through the tenseness dominating them. I let my inventory fall, too, and tipped my head back against the wall. Thankfully, the sounds of night were considerably more muffled inside the tiny building, and I felt some of the tension from running around at night creep away. 

That was, of course, the moment I realized I was now stuck in a tiny-ass room with Crane until it was safe enough (or light enough) to make a break for the Tower. 

_Fuck me. In the head. With many cacti_.

He, naturally, was not someone inclined to just sit still. I sat calmly. On the opposite end of the room, he finished shrugging his shoulders lose. Then shook his hands out to loosen them up, too. And then shifted to stretch his legs out. Long legs, I noticed. His boots kicked together once, and then he drew his knees up. Quiet filled the room and only lasted for a few minutes before Crane stretched and scratched the back of his head with a rather bored expression.

I finally moved to pinch the bridge of my nose. “Jesus, do you ever sit still?”

To my surprise, a hint of pink crept up his neck. “I haven’t sat still much since I got here. Doesn’t feel good not to be doing something, you know?”

Figuring it was as good a way to kill time as any, I asked, “When did you get here?”

The defensiveness that arose probably came from wanting to protect his GRE cover and manifested in a snort and sarcasm. “So, what, this is the part where you and I bond just because we’ve been forced in a small place together?”

“No. For some reason, I figured listening to you talk would be less annoying than listen to you fidget, but I guess I was wrong on that account.”

He looked almost…surprised, at my snapping response. And even slightly impressed at my quick wit. If I had to guess, I’d say he hadn’t met anyone able to match his quick-witted sayings in a while. Or, rather, anyone that was able to shut him up as effectively as I had just done. If that was how he was going to play things, he’d learn quickly just how much snark and general asshole-ishness I could produce on command. 

He scowled, unmoved by my show of sarcasm. “What the hell’s your problem with me?”

The GRE agent in me screamed at me to shut up, because I needed him agreeable in case I needed to win him over for my mission. But something about the guy just rubbed me the wrong way. “I don’t have to explain myself to you.”

The response sounded just as juvenile as I’d feared. He raised his eyebrows but said nothing. Matching my catty juvenile attitude, he crossed his arms and leaned further back into the wall. As stupid as my resentment towards him was, the exchange bought me some much-appreciated quiet.

I thought further on my antagonistic attitude toward him. Yeah, his case file at the GRE had set him up in my mind as rather arrogant and willing to deviate from mission plan in ways that compromised others around him. But there was clearly more to the man than that. He had been willing to put himself in harm’s way for the sake of shutting down the pharmacy. And he was dedicated enough to the mission that he was willing to risk destroying the Antizin. Taking that step had to have been a struggle for him considering how much he seemed to care about the Tower’s inhabitants. But why did he care about them so much? Was it just a natural savior complex that bled into arrogance, or was my bias overshadowing the good in him?

Too much thought. I hated missions with too much thought involved. Give me something to shoot and I had no problems following through there. But a covert mission such as this relied on human interaction. And much as I hated to admit it, my own bias was starting to get in the way of things.

I grunted and reached into my backpack. The bottle he had given me had been stubbornly rolling around unused. Given the lack of anything to set on fire so far, I figured it couldn’t hurt to go without that possibility for a few hours until I could get back to the Tower and restock my supplies. The crack of plastic and the plunk of the cork drew his attention for a brief second. I inhaled and smiled at the rich, oaky scent of whiskey. Definitely too good of a bottle to waste on setting something on fire, anyway, in my opinion. The first pull from the bottle burned slightly. The warmness left something to be desired; I wished it had sat on ice all day rather than stayed in my pack in the heat, but beggars can’t be choosers. Especially with a liquor as smooth as this.

Letting the scent and taste of the whiskey wash over me loosened the tenseness that had settled. By the time the slight fogginess crept in my mind, I realized I’d forgotten the stress and anxiety of the apocalyptic area for a moment. I opened my eyes and glanced at Crane, sulking silently in the corner. I pushed the cork back in and held the bottle out toward him by the neck.  
His surprise was almost comical. He paused, despite the obvious gesture, and I offered a grin. 

“Unless you’re not man enough for whiskey?” 

My remark had no bite, though, and he huffed a chuckle at my challenge before shuffling across the floor. “Not really the liquor of choice for a little lady, but I should have figured it’s what you drink.” He accepted the bottle, uncorked it, and took a long drink. “Ah, that’s good.”

I smirked at how his aggression from earlier melted from the alcohol. “Not like I have much choice in the way of alcohol. Zombie apocalypse and all, you know.”

He grimaced and took another swig. “You’re right there.”

Crane settled into the wall in the space next to me. I decided against flinching away when his sleeve brushed up against mine. We passed the bottle back and forth as time passed outside the building. The Volatile sounds of night still fettered around us, loud and insistent, yet I felt warm and safe in the building cloaked in UV lighting. Warm all the way to my soul, but I think that was just from the whiskey. The heat rising to my face seemed to indicate that, anyway. I was already feeling the alcohol; a side effect from heavily rationed food. He seemed to be feeling along the same lines. I glanced at him and he shifted to do the same. I mentally took stock of the scars on his face; the one flicking up into his hairline, the one across the bridge of his nose, the one jutting lightly into the end of one eyebrow. They gave his face character, I decided. A certain air of ruggedness that probably contributed to his tough-guy front.

A lazy, comfortable grin slowly lit up his face. “Bet you’re glad I made you take this bottle with you now.”

I rolled my eyes but couldn’t bring myself to feel truly annoyed. Without the animosity behind things, the snark between us seemed more joking, more teasing in nature. _Fuck_. Maybe my earlier sentiment had been right. Maybe we were similar enough to become friends. “Yeah but if I tell you that, you’ll never let me hear the end of it.”

The laugh that rang through the small room surprised me. It wasn’t a bad sound, just a departure from the seriousness I’d witnessed from him in the short time we’d spent together. A sound I wouldn’t mind hearing again, I decided, as I shifted to lay my head on a noticeably muscular thigh, the exhaustion from the day finally wearing on me. 

 

When I woke, Crane was gone but there were two scouts waiting inside the fence to help me move the crate contents back to the Tower. I appreciated the help, even more so when I was hauling boxes of cans through the city, sweat already slipping down my back. With extra hands, the trips took less time than I anticipated, and I soon found myself heading back down the hallway to the Tower’s headquarters. 

Brecken looked up as I entered. He was, as he always seemed to be, leaning forward, arms braced on the table. “Oi. Thanks for securing that first crate. We really needed the surprise.” 

I couldn’t help but notice his appreciative tone and smile didn’t quite reach his eyes. My brow narrowed at the veiled gratitude. “Well we all gotta eat, right?”

“It’s just…” The man paused, sighing as his shoulders sagged slightly. “I don’t know how you managed to take those thugs down by yourself. I’m not sure who the hell you are; you just showed up, gunning after missions as stupidly as that hard-headed Crane, and I’ve barely met you.” He looked up and caught my gaze. Brilliant green eyes held me, regarding me seriously. “You’re here for good reasons, right?”

I understood where he was coming from. Poor guy was trying to hold things together here, but most of what was happening was completely out of his control. Not to mention the fact that there were not one but two GRE agents amongst his people with ulterior motives. All he wanted to do was keep the survivors here safe. And he was putting his trust in us to do so, not knowing whether he should actually trust us or not.

“Yeah, Brecken, I’m here for good.” I placed a hand on one of his shoulders in support. “I…” I took a deep breath. “I came here because I realized that I was just surviving, not living. It’s easier to take care of yourself, but goddamn if I can find a reason to want to.” I smiled. “This, what you’re doing here for these people, the connection they have to one another, that’s what makes surviving even worth it in the first place.”

He blinked, taking in my words seriously, and I realized with a start that what I’d said was true. I hadn’t been talking about the apocalypse; even in my normal life before this, I kept to myself and made sure to always worry about what I needed. Life was simpler when you didn’t have to worry about anyone else. But I guess I’d been missing this human connection and hadn’t even realized I was. Maybe that’s what was dragging Crane away from the file. 

“Alright.” Brecken seemed satisfied with my answer. “Crane’s gone to meet with Rais. I don’t like it either,” he added quickly, “But… It needs to be done. Maybe he’ll be able to reason with the bastard.”

I sincerely doubted that, but I knew much more than Brecken did. 

“In the meantime, d’you think you could help me out? Toygar’s been up my ass all week about coffee and Alfie asked me to tell people to keep an eye out for some parts he needs.”

More sincerely this time, I smiled. “Sure thing, man.” Anything to help me pass the time now that my mission’s target was busy. I settled in to lean on the table as he animatedly described the parts Alfie needed and pointed out the best places to find coffee on the map.


	5. Horizon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jess bonds further with Crane, but the difficulties of living in the quarantine catch up with her when the events of the eighteenth floor unfold.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really do feel bad for lagging on updating the last chapter, so I figured I'd upload the next chapter early. There's some particularly difficult imagery in this chapter involving children, so if that triggers you, you might want to avoid the latter part of this chapter.

The late afternoon sun dipping down toward the horizon, staining the sky the same blood red that covered the pavement below me, didn’t give rise to the usual sense of urgency. This evening, I was in too good a mood to feel the normal threatening edge that sunset brought to the quarantine. Today had been a successful day of runs, from grabbing more coffee for Toygar and his coffee nuts to scavenging extra electronic parts to help Alfie with the upkeep of the Tower’s security. Now, I was working on my final project of the day. 

Securing more safe houses in the city had become a somewhat personal campaign of mine today. Especially since I’d learned from Alfie that Crane held the resident record of most safe houses secured in the short time he’d been here. He’d even gotten the power back on once or twice. Not that I was counting his victories here or anything. The arrogance paraded around when I was with him so far lit a fire in me to try to best what he was doing here. Not that he had directly bragged about what he was doing, or anything. Just… Something about his demeanor made me want to prove him wrong. Give him a run for his money to get him to stow that cocky attitude for once, anyway.

Tonight I was in the Cauldron area, partly because there was a semi established safe house here already, partly because of the number of airdrops that fell in this area. The three story building I was in was actually a shop with an apartment above it, accessible only by a hatch in the roof since the shop had been thoroughly trashed at some point, leaving no way in for anything from the most frustrated Viral to the most violent Volatile. Thankfully, the windows had already been boarded up, so I had minimal work to do.

After dropping through the hatch, I waged a quick battle with the handful of biters that had been trapped inside the two floors and discarded the heavy bodies before I set to work on the electronic panel. The panel itself was missing a few parts (which Alfie had already given me, bless him) and the lights around the outside of the building needed the wiring fixed. Replacing some of the bulbs with UV lights would also need to be done, which I had also come prepared with. Being so ready for this, and having such an easy time (for once) of clearing the building out put me in an immensely good mood. 

I set to work on the panel, armed with pliers, and set about diligently replacing the missing parts. The unusually silent streets below me, probably from the regular biters clearing out as night approached, left much to be desired, and I thought about music. But not from the radio I’d maintained from the GRE. For once, I felt a pang of regret to have left behind a world filled with singing. I missed live music, hearing another human belting out notes of a familiar and favorite song. 

And well, I’m not the best but I am still human, right?

Florence and the Machine came to mind immediately, as many of their songs were in a manageable tempo and volume for me and for the quarantine. I wasn’t looking to attract unwanted attention, but it did seem safer than normal to make a little noise. 

The last piece of the panel proved the most difficult to put back, but after much fiddling and an unconventional kick, it was finally set. I flipped the switch and the lights in the floor below me sparked to life. Now all that was left was to fix the wiring and replace some of the bulbs with Alfie’s UV ones. 

Night fell as I screwed in the last bulb. The hour had passed quickly with a few songs, some of which gradually grew louder as I became more confident, and I stood back to imagine my handiwork. The UV glare cut through the darkness, signaling safety to those who needed it. And despite my vendetta to best Crane just because of the slight contempt I still held for him, I actually did feel a flash of pride for creating a place that could potentially save survivors trapped outside the Tower, or those poor souls that elected to go on night missions. 

A sudden bang nearby caught my attention. I started, dropped the tools in my hands, and dashed to the other side of the rooftop to see what the racket was. I soon recognized the banging as boots on metal rooftops. I glanced down; a figure was slowly and painstakingly hauling itself up the side of the building toward the roof of my safe house. As it approached, I came to make out long, lean arms. Dark hair was all that was visible until wary brown eyes met mine. 

I leaned against the wall of the roof, sagging with relief. “Jesus Crane, you scared the shit out of me.”

Wordlessly, Crane kept climbing, stopping once or twice to rest which was unlike him. Usually, he could scale up to something like this third story in just a few leaps. Something must have been wrong. As he neared the top, I reached a hand out and pulled him up the last bit and over the wall. He toppled ungracefully to land on his hands and knees.

Despite my pride in my securing abilities, I still didn’t feel safe out in the open rooftop as the first Volatile scream cut through the warm night air. Crane was panting, out of both exhaustion and relief. Sweat dripped from his forehead onto the ground. “Come on, we still need to get inside,” I encouraged.

He gave a nod and crawled clumsily toward the hatch in the floor. A thud told me he’d tumbled inside to safety as I checked the area around the building. Some Volatiles paced and stalked the streets and alleys around the safe house, but none came close in fear of the unforgiving UV lighting. I dropped through to the third floor, closed and locked the hatch.

Crane was still gasping for breath from where he lay face-up on the floor. His legs, spread out but resting tensely, told me he was in some kind of pain, that this wasn’t just the normal tenseness that accompanied night running. Now that I looked closer, he seemed worse for wear. His shoulders looked somehow more tense than usual. The fact that his arms were directed away from his body indicated possible bruising to his abdomen, and he winced as he moved the leg he had been limping on. 

I headed downstairs to the kitchen and returned with water for him. “What happened? Are you alright?”

He nodded and accepted the bottle without sitting up. Normally, I would have been grateful for him to finally keep his mouth shut, but this total lack of insults and sarcastic remarks was somewhat worrying to me. He downed the water like he hadn’t drank in weeks. I kept scrutinizing him. There were no signs of visible blood, save for a few light scratches to his face and forearms. 

So the only thing to do was wait for him to recover. I dropped into a nearby chair as he paused and clutched the water bottle like it was his lifeline. A little while later, his breathing had subsided enough to drink again. This time, he tossed his head in my direction and mumbled, “Okay. I’m okay.”

“You don’t seem okay. What the hell happened to you? You’re acting like you got beat to shit or something.”

He closed his eyes and made a reluctant face, as though he didn’t want to talk about it. Which would probably be his next statement. I threw my hands up in frustration as he remained silent again.

Moments later, I was rewarded with one more muffled statement. “Okay, ‘m just… Tired. Exhausted. I need… to lay down for more than few hours.”

I sighed. His eyes were still closed, an unusually peaceful expression on his face. I barely recognized him without his mouth constantly flapping. The lines around his eyes were slack, as was his forehead, the usual concentrated and stern brow relaxed. This was the most time I’d ever taken to examine his features. My gaze flicked from the scar jutting into his hairline to the subtle signs of his nose having been broken in the past, a few times at least. The faintest line cutting perpendicular between his eyebrows remained, a slight crease built up over time from his almost constantly narrowed brow. The strong, square jaw was free of scars, and covered with a healthy amount of stubble that outlined his jaw, neck, and a set of full lips. Much as I hated to admit, a handsome face altogether. 

His chest steadily rose and fell, and after a little while he let go of the water bottle. I felt an unfamiliar pang of pity for the man in his relaxed and loose state. The poor guy. It seemed like he ran endless tasks around here, with little regard to his own well-being, especially when it came to sleeping. Although part of me wanted to mock the amount of time he was wasting when he had a mission to do, and more importantly money to collect, I couldn’t dispute the fact that he had done a lot of good for the people here already. The GRE didn’t give a shit about the people in the quarantine zone, only the file. I knew this. And I knew as a good agent it wasn’t my job to stray from the mission at hand but I had to admit, fixing this safe house had been done on my own time, and it felt pretty good to do so. My job was the most important thing to me, but maybe tonight I could take a break from the job and do some good, too. 

I stood from my chair and paced over to him. “Come on grumpy, let’s get you up.” He was awake enough to assist as I pulled him up and staggered for the first bedroom. I quickly lost my grip and ducked out of the way to let him stumble forward onto the bed. He landed well enough, and I swung his legs up so that he could lay out. Probably been a while since he’d slept on a real bed instead of a safe house couch. No quality sleep there as I had quickly learned.

As I looked up, bright brown eyes were open and watching me, although his eyelids seemed to be getting heavier by the second. “You’ll be safe here,” I reassured him. “The place is secure and I’m gonna stick around to make sure I didn’t fuck the lights up or anything.”

The pity extended enough that I felt bad leaving him laying uncomfortably in a jacket and boots. I walked to the edge of the bed and began unlacing the sturdy boots he always sported. He didn’t stir as I moved back up to his torso. “Come on, big guy, sit up for a minute. Let me get that jacket off you.” When he remained unresponsive, I began on a rather frustrating crusade to wrench his left arm from the jacket before repeating on the other side. I pulled his right arm free, stopping as I did so to trace a scar running sideways up the surprisingly soft skin there. Probably from a defensive wound resulting from fighting an enemy on deployment; I knew, because I had a matching one on my arm. The other arm held what looked like a shiny, still-healing scar in the shape of a bite mark. I shook my head and let go of his arm gently. Well, if he wouldn’t sit up enough for me to completely remove the jacket, at least he was less constricted now with it lying underneath him.

I gave him one more look-over, making sure he wasn’t bleeding from any wounds I’d missed before. The last thing I needed was him accidentally bleeding out on me. _Although_ , a small voice in my head nagged, _Wouldn’t that just make your job ten times easier_?

A noise sounded as I turned to leave, and I realized it was him speaking. “What?”

He attempted to clear his throat which only resulted in him sounding gruffer. “Don’t stop. Heard you earlier.”

Color drained from my face. He couldn’t be talking about my singing. There wasn’t much I cared enough about to be self-conscious about, but this? I was mortified. I’d never sang in front of anyone before, and I was sure I hadn’t been any good at it. “Heard me what?”

“Singing.” It was more of a sigh as his eyes closed again. Some of the tension relaxed from the tendons in his neck. I found my eyes wandering that neck, the collarbones, the freckles just barely visible that disappeared into the sleeve of his shirt, until he muttered again, “Shouldn’t stop.”

The pang of sympathy returned to my heart. I mean, if I was indulging to do good tonight, what could it hurt? I doubted he ever took time for himself. Maybe it would take someone taking the time for him to force him to get some of the relaxation and care he really deserved. 

In a stroke of luck, I dug a dusty guitar out of a cabinet in the room and settled down on the floor, my back resting against the side of the bed closer to his head. And for the second time that day, I got lost in the good mood of letting out a few songs. I stuck to songs softer in nature, more suited for someone falling asleep. Ben Howard. Ben Howard always put _me_ to sleep, at least. 

“And promise me this: you’ll wait for me only, scared of the lonely arms…”

I glanced back as I strummed. He was more relaxed now, looking finally fit to rest, when the corners of his mouth twitched up slightly. The faintest smile, like he was enjoying this. My heart twinged again. The lack of this in his life, of someone taking as good care of him as he did of the Tower, was for some reason sad to me. I had no idea where this sudden heartfelt moment came from. I told myself it was empathy. Just empathy. Never a good idea on missions, but I convinced myself it was probably healthy to let it out every once in a while. Well. Once in a _very great_ while.

I absentmindedly kept strumming until I suddenly felt something groping at my back, my shoulder. His hand came to lightly grip there, and I looked back again to realize that he was asleep: the area between his brows soft, head tilted toward me, lips slightly parted. I didn’t have the heart to stop. The guitar stayed, giving me the most practice I’d had in a while as Kyle Crane slipped into a peaceful, deep sleep behind me, one hand assuring I was still there.

 

A sudden sharp, stabbing pain in the side of my neck jerked me out of a solidly peaceful sleep. I sat bolt upright and clutched the area in pain. Of course. My dumbass-self had fallen asleep still leaning against the frame of the bed. The crick in my neck to end all cricks throbbed painfully as I rubbed the irritated muscle and glanced behind me. Crane was still asleep, snoring lightly, still relaxed. I stood and tip-toed out of the bedroom, not wanting to wake him. 

_My fucking neck_. I rummaged through the kitchen for another water bottle, cursing myself for having fallen asleep in such an uncomfortable position. A sudden crackling and beeping upstairs drew me back up. I realized it was Crane’s radio. I reached to turn down the volume to buy him more time to sleep when I recognized Brecken’s urgent rantings.

_Crane, mate, I know you’re busy running errands but I need you to hurry the fuck up!_.

Curious, I picked up the radio and chimed in. _Brecken? The hell is going on_?

_Where the fuck is Crane? Someone’s turned on the eighteenth floor_!

My pulse sped up. _What_? I dashed through the living room. My heavy footsteps alerted Crane to my presence, but it wasn’t until I shook him violently that he fully awoke and leaned up.

“What the hell?” He blinked slowly, confused at the rude awakening. The response would have been cute had the urgent situation not required my full attention. 

I thrust the radio at him. “Brecken. He says someone turned on the eighteenth floor. Tell me you got Antizin from Rais before coming here last night.”

Crane paled, the seriousness of the situation waking him further. “Fuck!” He jumped up, shoving his arms haphazardly back into his jacket. _Brecken, do you copy_? To me, he added, “Rais, the bastard, is still making me jump through hoops. But don’t worry; I’ll go there and make him give me what he promised me. Get back to the Tower!”

There was no time to snap back at his order. “Be safe.” I gathered up my backpack and rushed up the hatch to the roof. I tried to make a mental list of what I would need, what I could do, for when I finally arrived at the Tower. Brecken mentioned one person turning, but I could guess that wouldn’t be limited to one person for long. Especially if that one person wasn’t put down quickly. 

This would not be an easy situation to handle. The inhabitants of the Tower seemed to have no problem doing what was necessary when it came to putting down zombies on the streets. But these biters would be their own people. Not really people anymore, but I could guess that would be how they would see things. That difficulty would put the people trying to contain the situation at ends with each other on what was morally acceptable. I put on an extra burst of speed and raced up the concrete steps. 

No guard met me at the top of the ledge. I wasn’t surprised; they were probably on the floor dealing with the circumstances. I sidestepped around the corner and saw Jade racing toward Alfie’s workshop.

She caught my eye as I skidded around the corner. “Jess, elevator!”

I ducked inside and threw her a thumbs up before the door closed.

Chaos met me the second the heavy doors slid open on the eighteenth floor. Timur glanced my way as I stepped out of the elevator. Over the uproar, he shouted, “Jess! Thank god. It’s that first room. One person turned, and someone else is trapped in the other room of the apartment. Brecken’s trying to figure out how to get in there without risking anyone else.”

My eyes narrowed. “He hasn’t sealed off the apartment yet?”

Timur glanced up at the ceiling in exasperation. “Stubborn. He wants to save as many lives as possible. Please, help him.”

I pushed past him around the chain link fence surrounding the elevator door and jogged up the hallway. Several guards stood around one of the doors, in a huddle around Brecken. He seemed to be talking strategy. _Fuck_. Was I going to be the one to have to make the tough call here? I hoped to fuck not. Brecken glanced up as I approached, relief etching itself across his face. 

“Jess. Where’s Crane?”

“He’s gone to Rais to finish what he started,” I replied, taking in the twitchy, trigger-happy-looking guards around me. Loud banging sounded from the room next to us, followed by a procession of crashes. “Brecken, what—?”

“I’m sending Blake in there after Salma and her friend,” Brecken said gravely. “They were in there with Yakup and… They were looking after the kids,” he finished with difficulty.  


I sighed. “Brecken, you can’t just send these guards in there to die.”  


“I can’t leave them in there to die!” Brecken rubbed his face, looking more haggard than I’d seen him the other day worrying over Antizin. “Fuck, there are kids in there…”  


Raising a hand to his shoulder, as I’d apparently become accustomed to doing, I asked, “What do you want me to do, Brecken?”  


He sighed, the question weighing heavily on his morals. I would have no problem taking Yakup out if that’s what it came to; zombies were zombies to me, especially when I didn’t really know the people behind them. But Brecken had gotten to know everyone here in the Tower personally, having decided to take in and care for every single one of them. 

“Just…” I groaned. “Just give me a chance to buy some time for Crane to come back with the Antizin. Maybe I can strong-arm Yakup into the bedroom in time to get the kids out.”  


The rest of the guards looked around at each other in confusion. Brecken, on the other hand, was probably thinking about the scene in the safe zone with the thugs that the scouts had probably reported to him. If I could do that to three of Rais’ more capable men, then I could probably handle one biter with more ease than the rest of the guards. At least, I was hoping he was thinking along those lines.  


“Alright,” Brecken finally conceded. “When I give the signal, open the door. Jess’ll go in and assess what’s happening. Just… Try to do everything you can to get them all out.”

I nodded, pausing to give myself time to mentally prepare for the mission at hand. One of the guards offered me his rifle. I denied politely; the noise would only startle the kids and make my job harder. I gripped my trusty machete; at the worst, I had my handgun still strapped to my thigh. Blake gripped the door handle. I stopped to take his face in, grateful Brecken was giving me this chance; otherwise, I doubt the eager young guard would’ve lived to see tomorrow. He seemed to be thinking along the same lines, flashing me a tight smile before he wrenched the door open and I rushed inside. 

The door slammed behind me. I glanced around the room quickly. Two cabinets on the left wall were slightly propped, allowing me a view of three frightened children crammed inside. To the right, there was a closed door; the bathroom, if I had to guess. The coffee table in the middle of the room was turned on its side. Papers littered the floor, along with several torn books and some broken glass. A trail of blood leading from the coffee table to the other side room caught my attention. _Probably Yakup. Goddamnit_ , I thought to myself. I gripped the machete and motioned toward the kids for them to stay still. Wide, absolutely terrified eyes met mine but stayed frozen still. The smell of blood invaded my nostrils, stale enough to make my stomach twinge in disgust. Insects swarmed low toward the source of the smell. I crept around the glass, being careful to avoid it, and stalked toward the open side door. 

Something rushed me with more speed than I was expecting and carried me powerfully backwards, onto the broken glass I’d been so cautious to avoid.

“MotherFUCK—”

My shouting was the last thing the situation needed but I couldn’t help it. It did cause the kids to panic, though, and I saw them rushing around the room as the Viral that had carried me to the ground screeched violently. I pushed back against the snapping teeth, the frustrated whines surging from Yakup’s—well, not Yakup’s— mouth as the now-crazed zombie bit for my head. I brought my knees up and threw the Viral off myself. The second I sat up, another Viral rushed straight for me from the bedroom. I rushed forward with my arms braced and shoved the zombie backwards, grabbing desperately for the door. I slammed it behind me with a quick, “Fuck YES!” 

Behind me, more ruckus and noise ensued, and as I turned, I felt the blood drain from my face as I paled. 

Yakup—not Yakup?—had given up his pursuit of me rather easily, and I saw why the second I turned around.

The Viral was crouched on all fours, furiously munching on something. All the air was punched from my lungs as I saw the brilliant spray of bright red tossed over its head as it reared back to tear off a particularly stuck piece of sinewy muscle. 

_No_.

The two other children were pressed against the apartment door, mute with horror, as the Viral tore into the third child that had fled the safety of the cabinets during the initial ruckus of my entrance. I launched myself over the coffee table and tackled the Viral to the ground, trying to ignore the painfully small, ripped chest cavity baring slight, bleach-white ribs next to me. I furiously punched the roaring face of the Viral and shouted, “Salma! Get the kids and _get the fuck out now_!” 

As I held the manic zombie still below me, alternating punches, Salma thankfully tore from the bathroom and pushed the remaining children out the apartment door. The Viral Yakup under my grip snapped forward, catching the lagging kid by the ankle with a ferocious bite. Salma wrenched the poor kid from the monster’s grasp and continued running. I could barely make out Brecken’s shouting from the other side before the door closed. Another glance at the angelic, motionless face of the third child beside me renewed the rage in me to drive me to punch in the skull in front of me until it was caved in worse than the small body beside me.

Of course, the end is never really the end in this shit business, and as I turned there was a sudden crashing from the adjoining room. I jumped back to my feet and raced over to the closed door. I cracked it open slightly and was met with an empty room. The other Viral had, apparently, broken through the door leading to the connecting apartment.

_Oh fuck, no_.

“Jess, what the fuck—?”

“Brecken no!” I shrieked. 

But it was too late. The guards had opened the first door, and the Viral I’d beaten to a pulp had somehow risen from the ground like some Frankenstein knock-off and lunged for the first guard stepping through the door. That man went down screaming as the other guards all fired their rifles at the imposing Viral. The noise just barely covered the screams coming from the adjoining apartment where the other Viral was also attacking.

Everything was going to shit. I glanced toward the open apartment door, blank with shock, meeting Brecken’s identical gaze. 

He had no idea what to do. The other guards turned to him, all firing off their own questions, looking for him to tell them what to do. But Brecken was frozen, trapped by the screams of the people around him that had trusted him to keep them safe. The guards kept asking. Brecken almost seemed to be silently asking me for anything that would help the situation. But after what I’d seen, after I glanced once again at the child I’d told to stay silent, had told without words would be safe and wasn’t, I didn’t know what to do either. 

“Everybody, get up to the nineteenth floor. Now.” Lena’s quiet authority rang through the hallway and into the room I was in. I rose quietly and made it to the door in time to witness her striding powerfully toward the stairs. “Those of you still able, grab any furniture in your apartment if it’s safe. Buckshot, barricade that second apartment. Jess, hold the door behind you.”

The entire floor jumped to life under Lena’s stern assignments. I pulled the door closed behind me after I carefully turned the latch to lock it. It would be enough to hold the Viral until the stairwell could be held, at least. The rest of the guards scrambled for heavy furniture. The new other Viral screams that ripped from the next apartment added to the urgency of the movement. I stumbled backwards and stepped into the elevator, pushing for the nineteenth floor as I gasped for air.

Up on the floor above, I sprawled out of the elevator when the door opened. Jade met me, catching my faltering steps. Her dark eyes were narrowed with undisguised concern. 

“Jess!” She caught my arms in a strong grip and stopped me firmly. “What is going on?”

My stomach heaved at the thought of that third child, the one I’d failed, and the second one Salma had grabbed but hadn’t saved from a similar fate. “Someone… Fuck the whole floor’s going to shit, Jade. I…”

There was a fanfare of noise from the other end of the hallway as Brecken and the rest of the guards emerged, followed by Lena. Without thought, my feet carried me that way, Jade in tow, until I could take in the hallway completely jammed with bookshelves, couches, anything heavy. Salma, one child, and two adults were the only ones with Brecken and the remaining guards. I struggled for breath. Brecken ran his hands through his hair and punched the nearby wall angrily. Lena’s shoulders sagged. Two of the guards were crouched in mourning for their fallen comrade. 

That was when Crane’s voice cracked from Jade’s radio. _Jade? Rais, he… Rais screwed us. I only got five vials_.

I took in the scene unfolding before me, took in Crane’s voice and message, and slid against the wall to the ground in defeat.


	6. Invitation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jess finally meets with Suleiman and learns of his famous hospitality. And she picks up another friend along the way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It seems that the general consensus is favoring the First Person narrative, so I decided to edit this chapter back into it to keep with the flow of the story. Thanks all for your feedback everyone, and I hope you enjoy reading!

It started innocently enough as a run through town for the necessities. Toygar, the needy bastard, was now requesting bandages and syringes and other medical supplies. Which I didn’t mind volunteering for, since I had been doing my best to avoid being physically present in the Tower after the events of the eighteenth floor. The image of the fallen child still haunted me every second I closed my damn eyes, so I did as best I could to keep busy enough to ignore it. This meant spending time searching for whatever the inhabitants needed and dropping the contents just under the ledge leading to the safety of the first walkable floor. 

Crane had attempted on several occasions that first day to raise me over the radio. I steadfastly ignored the pleas for any information and kept about the errands. As always, mu method of self-preservation was a mix of ignoring issues and distancing from people. Decidedly, I worked better alone, anyway.

Extra bandages for the Tower was a perfect excuse to employ that self-preservation plan. And I was sure I would, at some point, take my fair share of beatings and would need the supplies just as desperately as everyone else here. But I pushed that depressing thought out of my mind as I packed up and headed out into the hot early morning sun.

The pharmacy where the assholes had been pedaling fake Antizin had already been picked clean, but according to Brecken, there was another pharmacy just down the road, between the Tower and the local bazaar. The bazaar was an area, I had also learned, that was inhabited by survivors, and I made a mental note to swing by and see if there was anybody there willing to trade that had anything of value.

I was ass-deep in tossed shelving and discarded papers when the banging outside first started. 

The banging of metal against the grates around the windows to the front of the pharmacy, to be exact. I ducked behind the counter after the first pinging, my back sticking to the area from the sweat bleeding through the fabric. Maybe it was just zombies? I wasn’t usually one for wishful thinking, but the clanging seemed deliberate, more evenly timed than I’d give one of those mindless bodies credit for. The urgency of the noise increased. The front entrance, a slightly-open metal pull-down gate for security, and the back door (which had been bolted shut upon entrance for safety reasons) left me little room for escape. _Idiot_ , I griped at myself.

Not many options here. 

The chance that I could just wait whatever this was out from the hiding space dissipated completely when the first voice sounded. “We know you’re in there, girl. Come out with your hands up.” 

_Fuck me sideways_. Who the hell was even looking for me? Despite the fact that I’d ignored him for the better part of the week, I doubted even Crane would fuck with me this way, and the alternatives were much less comforting to think about.

The worst fears were confirmed when I gave in and hauled the front gate up. I blinked confusedly in the sudden harsh sunlight and my gaze was met by four yellow-striped vests. 

The one who had spoken before spoke again. “Good choice,” he grunted. That voice belonged to a heavy, brute-sized man that towered over the rest of the thugs. He shot me a predatory smirk from behind his beard. A thick baseball bat was casually slung over his shoulder, one he clearly handled with ease. There were grenades and throwing knives strapped into the vests of those around him, but the baseball bat was not the only weapon he toted; a clean, better-than-new rifle hung from where it was strapped over his back. The bat was probably all the weapon the bastard needed, though; I gave an inward shudder at the thought of that contacting someone’s head. Not a pretty image. 

I refused to give up the bravado despite the fact that these fuckers were probably here to kill me over that day in the safe zone. “Nice matching outfits,” I drawled. “Who the fuck’re you guys? Harran’s newest boy band?”

One of them coughed to downplay an escaped chuckle. The party-sized hoodlum-in-charge shot a cold glance his way, promptly silencing the laugher, before shifting the bat to rest in both hands threateningly. That was definitely a message I received loud and clear. “Rais wants to see you.”

So they weren’t here to kill me, despite how much the huge man seemed to consider the thought. Was Suleiman saving that pleasure for himself? And how would he react when he realized I was a ‘friendly’ face from all the days with the GRE?

It seemed I was in much deeper shit than I originally thought when the man added, “Now. And, he says, it’s not a request, Jess.”

My very own trigger-happy boy band escort dragged me through the city at a brisk pace. On the ground, too, of all things. The group sidled around me, taking out zombies that got too close. I would call it the safest walk through the city I’d ever experienced had I not been so quietly terrified of what would be waiting at the end of this long walk. Though, I’d never admit that out loud.

The garrison loomed in view, appearing to be the remnants of an apartment building. A distastefully large yellow-striped flag hung from the front of the building, signaling who owned it to everyone from here to the town over that I had dropped into, I figured. 

“Matching outfits _and_ a matching house? Who’d your band manager have to fuck in order to swing that?” The joke was _almost_ worth the shot to the ribs that the large thug dealt. I stumbled, but they didn’t give me any time to recover as they hauled me up the sloping ramp that lead inside the wrought iron fence surrounding the apartments. 

I drew in a deep breath as they led me through a corridor. A large door separated them from the other outside portion of the yard. WELCOME, FRIEND was haphazardly scrawled in red writing across the door. _An omen if I’ve ever seen one_. Who knows how much blood had been spilled in the courtyard area that awaited.

The door slid open quickly under the large thug’s massive hands. He shot me one more menacing smirk for good measure before shoving me bodily inside. Though my hands were not bound, I felt the same panic rising of feeling trapped, of feeling as though there was nothing I could do against what would happen. 

There were boxes stacked upon crates upon crates over to one side of the building. A yellow van with stripes running through its side also stood off to the corner, its belly containing what appeared to be combat equipment and guns. I paid special attention to the sight of the wooden box sitting off to the side of the path. It would have seemed innocent enough had it not been caked with congealed, and in some cases still-drying blood. 

“Well, well, well. I guess the GRE still wastes its time sending its best operatives on, how you say, pointless errands?”

I glanced up sharply at the low, slow voice drawling over the entirety of the courtyard. Suleiman always did have an uncanny ability to project his voice better than most. The words worried me; had he already figured out my mission? 

But there was no serious bite to the words, no real urgency as Kadir Suleiman strode casually toward the boy-band group, hands in his pockets. I took in the skin bared from the open jacket, found myself tracing the lines of the intricate tattoos covering most of the smooth area with my eyes. One sleeve was pushed up his arm and he was sporting a good amount of facial hair, but neither of those created a haggard image of the man. He looked strong, well fed; as if the quarantine had been good to him. I rubbed ruefully at my own painfully empty stomach. Bastard was clearly getting better than he deserved here. 

I forced a surprised expression at his appearance and replied, “Yeah, well, you know me. Always been kind of a shit-end of the stick kind of agent.”

Suleiman came to stop directly in front of my. The rough hands came from his pockets to link behind his back and he stood with military rigidity. “Ah, yes. Always got less than you deserved.” He lips curved up in a smile that didn’t quite reach dark eyes. “But I think you’ll find that this place is very good to people like you and I.” His gaze flicked over me rapidly, and I almost detected contempt within the black pools of his eyes. “Though, it seems that you have not taken advantage of what the city has to offer yet.”

Something about that tone set me off slightly. While he was polite now, I knew there was something more at work, something about his demeanor that told me the good graces of my host would not last. “Doesn’t seem to me that this city has much to offer. Not anymore, anyway.”

The self-proclaimed dictator huffed what could almost be considered a laugh. “Come. Walk with me.”

The thugs around finally fell out of step, and I was grateful to finally have some space away from them. Suleiman had turned toward the entrance of the building, giving me time to walk casually past one of the thugs. I hissed, “Good luck advertising for Monster Energy, man.” The thug looked as though he would have loved to hit me, but at that moment, Suleiman offered me his hand. I took it with slight hesitation, now following him as he headed up the small concrete steps up into the garrison. 

The inside of the building was far more bustling than the outside. Guards and thugs clad in similar yellow-striped vests and jackets rushed about the halls, all looking very busy. Most held at least one piece strapped to them, if not more than one, and I could hear the faint pattering of gunshots. A firing range, maybe? 

Most of those hurrying about still took time to pause at my appearance. A few gave appreciative glances or whistles, but I continued after Suleiman, refusing to let my head hang uncomfortably under the attention. They seemed somewhat surprised, if not more appreciative at my defiant stares. But Suleiman’s stern glances their way made me feel somewhat more safe. _Huh. Go figure_ , I thought. Even in the GRE offices, I hadn’t felt safe with the snake of a man.

Suleiman crossed the first open room and headed toward the elevator. A man sitting at a desk next to it with his feet propped up on the wood dropped his legs and hurried to stand as Suleiman passed. “This is Karim. You might talk with him more than others.”

Karim gave me a quick once over with light brown eyes. “Ah. The American agent. I have an uncle there. He’s from Texas. You from Texas?”

He was probably Suleiman’s second-in-charge, I figured, if he was important enough to be introduced. I found myself grinning at the slicked back, dark hair and light bomber jacket. “Hardly, Elvis. I haven’t been back to the States in years.” 

The man almost started at my nickname but grinned widely at the American reference. Suleiman, however, seemed bored with the interaction and headed toward the elevator instead. I flashed Karim one more smile before following. The back and forth with Karim had momentarily distracted me, but the second the doors closed, I remembered the immenseness of what this trip was about.

Suleiman, of course, instantly reminded me further. The man turned and placed his hand at the wall above, imposing in on me personal space in a way that let me know that I was here to stay as long as he said so. The thought reminded me of having my hands bound again, although as the man glanced down with predatory intent, I wished that having my hands bound instead was an option. His dark eyes never strayed from mine, making me feel rather like a fly caught in a web. 

But he didn’t say anything. The door to the elevator opened and he strode out to the hallway again. Seemed to be the man’s favorite past time, striding around the place. I jogged out after him and soon found myself in a large stock room. The food that greeted my sights was far better than the food that the Tower had scraped by from wherever they could manage. The food here was stuff that I could honestly consider actually calling food. 

Of course, Suleiman noticed my not so subtle staring at the contents of the shelves all around and made quick work of compiling a few containers, which he handed off to a thug that had appeared in the doorway. “Prepare these for our…” One corner of the man’s mouth turned up. “Guest.”

The meal prepared for me was so good, and the thought that I’d need energy in case it came to having to fight me way out of here was so urgent, that I unashamedly shoveled the contents down quickly. Suleiman watched closely, and I was aware that I was unfortunately revealing to the man just how thin things were running at the Tower. Oops. But as I savored what seemed like _real_ chicken for the first time in, who knows how long, I couldn’t bring myself to care. 

The self-proclaimed dictator lowered himself into a chair at a nearby table. I dropped the suddenly empty container into the make-shift sink of the room and turned to face where the man was sitting. He was still watching with careful, falcon-like eyes. “So, Jess...”

Ah. The moment I had been waiting for. Although I sort-of doubted that he would have fed me if his intention was to kill me over the events that had transpired in the safe zone that day. I attempted to keep my expression light as I asked, “Yes?”

“What, exactly, are you doing here?” 

It was my turn for the corners of my mouth to twitch. “You invited me here. Quite firmly, I might add.”

Another smile that didn’t meet his eyes. “In the quarantine.” Suleiman rose, buttoning that ridiculous jacket. “Or more specifically, what are you doing here, putting a stop to my men, torturing one, no less?”

“I wouldn’t say torturing.” I realized we were now locked in a battle of wills. Suleiman wanted information that I wasn’t going to give. I had no idea just how much he already knew but I wasn’t about to give up my cover. “They attacked me. The rest was in self-defense. But I will admit, I got a bit carried away with that last one since the first too made my life a bit…difficult.”

“Ah, yes. But difficult for you…” Suleiman crossed the room. “Does not mean anything to me. Difficult to me, however; that, is something else entirely. And slaughtering one of my men for information made the other men… Uneasy. That makes my life difficult.”

“Information?” My only option was to play coy. “What information could I possibly need? I had no idea you were even here until a few minutes ago.”

“Oh, see, I do not think that’s entirely true.” He moved even closer. “Because I know what you know. And I know what you have learned. And sometimes,” he added, lacing strong fingers around a nearby kitchen knife, “We learn things in specific patterns. Jess, I would hope you’re not lying to me.”

“Of course I’m not.” I refused to glance at the knife between us and instead forced my features into what I hoped was an innocent expression. “Suleiman, for Christ sake, we worked together on missions. What would I gain from lying to you?”

He paused for a second in thought. I swallowed as he fingered the blade into his palm and lifted it. “Quite a bit, actually. I do not believe the GRE sent you in here after me.” He crowded once again into my space, this time much more threateningly, and added, “But I do think they sent you in here for something. And I intend to find out what. Because at the rate you’re cutting through my men, it cannot mean good things for me.”

“Kadir, come on.” I refused to back up, despite the fact that all alarm bells for flight were now ringing shrilly in my head. “I learned my interrogation techniques from you. You would know if I was lying.” I hoped the use of his first name would cause the forceful man to back off. 

Instead, he suddenly jammed the knife into the cutting board by the sink, inches from my arm, and turned away. “I guess we will find out soon enough.”

The giant oaf standing in the doorway from earlier caused my stomach to drop uncomfortably. 

 

“How odd is it, that the techniques I taught to you that got you into this mess, are not working on you now?” Suleiman’s voice drawled over the silence of the room, save for the consistent dripping of a nearby pipe in the room. 

I struggled to focus on the lazy sound of the drop-drop-drop of the pipe. That was what I had been taught, by him and others, to do. Focus on something, ground yourself in it, and the actions were more bearable. That seemed to be doing the trick for now, but I wasn’t sure how long Suleiman was planning on letting his largest boy-band member… continue. 

“Although…” It was amazing, I thought, how Suleiman’s projecting voice managed to dominate the room, even given how large it was. “Maybe I have not taught my men as well as I taught you.”

 _Debatable_. Already, I could feel the bruise smarting on my left cheek. The what felt like dents in my ribs that felt like they had gouged into bone. The slight running of light blood down one arm as the man’s big oaf, _Tahir_ I had learned, drew the sharp kitchen knife over my left knuckles and began working up my arm. Small cuts; not enough to cause profuse blood loss, but big enough to cause pain. At least the asshole had spared my good hand. 

Despite all that, I wheezed, “Or, maybe your men just aren’t as capable as me.”

Suleiman huffed another chuckle. “You may be correct.” He straightened his posture and walked closer. 

I stiffened from the chair I was bound to. Apparently, all my wishes for being bound by the hands paid off, as my hands were now bound by very solid cable ties behind the chair back. _Bastards_.

Whatever the man had been intending to do was derailed the second loud explosions racked the air outside the building. Suleiman paused, the closest thing I’d ever seen to confusion working itself on the normally straight expression. He nodded to Tahir and exited the room behind the buffoon. Giving me one last glance before he exited, Suleiman added, “Do not worry. We will be back.”

Relief coursed through my abused muscles. So far, I was holding up to Tahir’s interrogation well. The oaf was strong, but not nearly as skilled as myself or Suleiman. The steady drip-drop-drip from the pipe was replaced by the steady drip-drop-drip of my own blood. I winced at the pain as I struggled against the cable ties. My wrists already felt raw from rubbing against the ties, but I couldn’t let it go. I only had a small window of opportunity before the dictator and the lout came back. 

I didn’t even know what time of day it was or how much time had passed, but it seemed to me that the two came back far too soon. 

“Well, Jess.” Suleiman waltzed back in the room, hands shoved in his pockets. “It seems you’ve been granted a, uh, stay of execution here. Something else requires my attention.”

I opened my mouth to reply when Tahir landed another stinging blow to my head, one that definitely cut my lower lip, if the liquid dripping onto my chest was any indicator. Despite this blow, I spat to clear my mouth and asked, “What could that possibly be?”

Suleiman must have figured I would be little threat once this interrogation concluded, because he answered promptly, “Someone has taken it upon themselves to blow up one of the buildings nearby. This, of course, has drawn several of the more interesting creatures toward our area. I will be supervising my troops as they… cleanse the area.” Another tug at those lips in an attempt at a smile. “I will be back.” He jerked his head at Tahir and added, “But he does not seem like he has been much fun so far, so maybe I will come back alone.”

The pair disappeared. What had he been talking about? I struggled to keep my mind clear. Who would have been stupid enough to blow that building? All I could remember about it was what Rahim had said…

No. The stupid fucker couldn’t have done it. 

In any case, I hoped Crane was around to help when that shit inevitably hit the fan. Honestly, I wished that Crane was here now to help me out of this situation. _Weak. You really need someone to bail you out of this_?

That just renewed my vigor in struggling with the cable ties. Which in turn just irritated my wrists more. 

The door was thrown open again with a bang and I froze, caught in my attempts to free myself. But it was just Karim, coming into the room with a coffee cup in hand. He took in the hunched pose, the wrists extended, and made an unimpressed face as he crossed the room to the sink. As he busied himself making what looked like tea, I sagged lower in my chair. 

As he looked back over, I sighed and rasped, “Here to keep an eye on me. I know, Elvis.”

He chuckled, a deep belly chuckle that caused a small smile to rise to my lips. “Not much gets past you, no?” he asked. 

“No,” I answered. I spat once more to get rid of the blood hanging around. 

Suleiman’s second in command sat in the chair that the man himself had occupied not but a few hours earlier. He tentatively sipped at the hot liquid and gazed over the lid of his cup. “There’s something…quite different about you.”

“Yeah. I’m locked into a piece of fucking woodwork.” The snark could never wait, it seemed. But I was proud of the gripe when it pulled another laugh from Karim. 

“Yeah, yeah.” He sat forward in his chair. “But between you and me. If Rais wanted you dead, you’d already be dead. Kind of one of his specialties.”

I huffed in exasperation. “Yeah, Elvis, that makes me feel so much better.”

He shrugged. “I tried.” 

 

The sheer amount of noise rising from the corridors outside the large room alerted me to something going on. I had mercifully dozed for a few hours as Karim supervised, but had jerked awake at the shouting and pounding footfalls. 

Feeling a little more vulnerable than usual, I slurred, “Wha’s happening?”

Karim glanced up from his stack of papers. “Movement downstairs.”

“No shit, Elvis.”

It seemed he would never tire of the American monogram as he chuckled. “Just a mission ordered by Rais.”

The lack of information from my new friend could not spell good. I struggled to straighten in the chair. “What new mission?”

Karim’s facial hair twitched. “Just…” He rubbed his eyes. “Kidnapping that doctor of yours. Whatever his name is.”

I paled visibly. Well, more so than I had from the blood loss. “What? Why?” Although as I asked, I knew the answer. The good doctor had been making headway in the research of whatever the fuck had struck Harran and caused all this mess, and that was very valuable. Valuable enough that Suleiman decided to spend his resources going after the man. Thinking of how old the good doctor had seemed would have caused me to pale more if it was possible. “Fuck. What does that mean?”

“Think about it.” Karim glanced at me from under dark lashes. 

I sucked in another painful breath. Why was the doctor so important? Maybe because the doctor was important in general? 

_Important enough that Brecken would send help after him?_

Fuck. Important enough that Brecken would send Crane after him. That was the end goal. Whether I cracked or not under this extensive torture, Suleiman would have Crane the second the man came after the kidnapped doctor. And he would know that Crane had been sent in by the GRE, and why I had been sent in by the GRE, and all that mission planning would go to shit.

And I couldn’t do a damn thing to warn him. 

The noises only increased, and then eventually waned, and I was left straining to hear anything in the labyrinth of hallways of the garrison. Eventually, Karim sighed at my straining and pointed out, “Crane seemed the type that would do these missions stealth, if you know what I mean.”

Sure, he was right, but I refused to concede the point. Stubborn as always. Kind of how I’d survived the torture so far. Which brought to attention the next thing. “Why are you just sitting there?”

Karim looked up, surprised at the question. “Huh?”

“You’re not…” I attempted to gesture to the area and tools around me but the movement went unnoticed due to the damn cable ties. “Continuing on with Tahir’s work.”

He grunted in response. “It’s never really been my thing.” 

No, I guessed it wasn’t his thing. Karim was a man good for bossing lesser men around but still sticking to one in charge who could help and protect him. Which was exactly what had happened here. If I had to guess, I’d say that Karim had nothing to do with the decision to hold Antizin or to extort from the locals. Sure, the man allowed Suleiman to do whatever he wanted and had never stood in the way of the men doing all the shitty things they had done, but at least he was doing it for self-preservation. While I couldn’t necessarily agree with what the thugs did, I could at least respect Karim’s intentions. 

“In fact…” Karim gathered up his papers and his tea and passed by the chair, pausing to pick up the kitchen knife. I bristled until Karim grasped the cable ties with the knife and promptly tore through them. “I’ve never been much for any of this.” 

He then disappeared out the door.

I rubbed my wrists in confusion but didn’t waste any second getting up. The hallways would be packed, what with the assumption that Crane was coming after the doctor. But the roof, maybe, the roof would prove to be safer. I stood on shaky legs but managed to move to the door. As I slipped through the hallway and up to the stairwell that led to the roof, I stopped to consider whether I should help Crane. But one passing inspection from the bruised ribs to the cut face and still-bleeding arm told me I’d be little help on the front to get the doctor.

Besides. That wasn’t my mission.


	7. Revival

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Jess engages in some much needed introspection into her recent trauma and her thoughts on Crane.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I thought I had a lot of what I wanted for this fic planned out, but I am officially off the rails and running with some things here. Real life has prevented me from updating this as quickly as I would have liked to, but I promise that this fic is still very much going strong and I will update it as quickly as I am able. To those of you still along for the ride, I really appreciate the feedback and comments, you are all wonderful!

The fact that Crane had directed the attention of all the garrison’s guards inside proved to be very helpful as I made my way out the side door of the apartment building. On my way out, I heard rustlings from the guards of moving to Suleiman’s tower; the place where his pit was, I remembered. The courtyard was empty; empty in a way that seemed even more haunted than the empty streets of the city. I was proud of the realization that spiked through me next. The pain in my muscles (in every fiber of my being, honestly) was not enough to stop me from grabbing one of the less sizeable duffels from an unused van and stuffing it chock-full of Antizin from one of the nearby crates. _Yahtzee_. Chock-full wasn’t as full as I’d like, considering my bum arm and my tired muscles, but it was enough vials of it to lessen the constricting anxiety in my chest. 

The only pause I gave before starting out the faux-friendly blue gate was to consider that anxiety. It was an alien feeling for me, although I wasn’t surprised. The surprise came from the fact that it had taken this long to reach me. As I made my way down the street, I mulled over all I had been over in the short time I’d been here. I wasn’t one for much introspection. Feelings and dwelling on emotion was what usually caused problems during missions. In this line of work, those feelings made for sloppy work, distracted thoughts, and on many occasions, the death of innocents and other team members. 

But at times like this, the weight of what was expected of me as an agent took more of a toll than the physical beatings. Well, almost. I shifted the duffel further up my shoulder and winced at the effort it took to reach the safety of higher altitude. If I wasn’t careful, it would be game over for the delicate bottles contained within. The weight of that was also almost more impressive than I could shoulder. 

Sure, I went into this mission with the very real expectation that I could die. But thinking that and facing that slapping reality were two totally different things. I thought back to the day I had secured the safe house and the feelings it had brought. It really wasn’t healthy for me to be burying everything as soon as it came up in my mind. The mission couldn’t afford to suffer, but could I really? All the years of ignored introspection rose like bile in my throat as I weaved back to the Tower. The past few days in particular during which I had ignored the safe haven in favor of not looking anyone in the eye had seemed worth it, but now more than ever I needed help. The drying skin around the edges Tahir had carved in my knuckles split as I scrambled about the rooftops, staining red on the existing red surfaces. 

I needed help. And there was more help than I could ever need being offered at the place I was refusing to call home here; yet the bitterness of wallowing in my own pride felt better than allowing myself to become close to people I knew wouldn’t last. 

The eighteenth floor was living, screaming proof of that. 

And ignoring the events of the floor wasn’t going to do myself any good. Yes, I knew death was a possibility in this mission; but facing down my own screaming incapability to save those people wasn’t something I was sure I knew how to deal with. Maybe I wasn’t as invincible as my training had led me to believe. Even the most capable agents fell eventually. As much as I wanted to pat myself on the back for how I had handled the events of the quarantine so far, now that I was stopping to give it some consideration, I was rocked to my core. 

The heaving breaths of the Virals, the overwhelming scent of pooling blood, and that kid… The jarring scene of the kid’s ribs protruding from the carnage was by far one of the most haunting scene’s I’d seen in my life. 

By the time I trudged up the cement stairs leading to the Tower entrance on unsteady feet, I was basically hyperventilating. The noise that resulted from me stumbling up to the ledge drew the guards. Several hands reached down and hoisted me up to stand on the receiving floor. The duffel slipped from my grasp; thankfully, there wasn’t much space between it and the ground. 

A warm grasp on my shoulder detoured me from the people. I sucked in painful breaths and focused on trying to get them to reach my poor lungs. By the time I stood from leaning my elbows on my knees, I realized I was in the headquarters. The strong hand had moved from my shoulder to circle surprisingly gently on my back. I fought the urge to throw off the limb under the pretenses that no, I didn’t need any damn help, and focused instead on that alleviating touch. 

“There now. Just breathe, in and out.” The accent. Brecken. He moved a few moments later to let stand far enough not to crowd into my personal space. He had probably dealt with more than his fair share of breakdowns as the leader of a place like this. 

I nodded, which I hoped showed my gratitude, and despite Brecken’s slight grimace, I sat on the large table, letting my legs dangle. A few more breaths finally allowed me to talk. “Hey.”

The eye roll that accompanied his next statement had enough force to nearly bowl me off of the table. “Mate, only you could come in here so casually after suffering a breakdown like this. What the hell happened to you?” 

I guessed he was asking because of the marks on my face, my arm, my hand. I shook my head. “Not… not from that.” I met his brilliant green gaze, the guilt finally tipping my body toward exhaustion. “Brecken, I’m sorry. I… There’s so much more I should have done…”

The clarity in those eyes as he caught up with what I was saying was alarming. “Jess, for fuck’s sake, don’t. You did everything possible. The whole damn thing was my fault, anyway.”

“It wasn’t.” I was too tired to argue, but I couldn’t let Brecken shoulder that burden alone. Doing so in just the short time it took to get back from Suleiman’s garrison was crushing enough. Had Brecken been feeling this way for days? “If I did everything possible, so did you.”

Disgust bloomed on his face. He turned away and rubbed his jaw angrily. The bandages that still snaked their way over his temples and back around made him seem smaller, as though he was folding in on himself. “That’s bullshit. Lena had to step in. What the fuck kind of leader can’t make the tough calls? What am I even doing here if I can’t do that?”

“You’re giving these people something to hope for,” I replied firmly. “A way of life that’s more sturdy than just wake-scavenge-sleep. Losing people like that is a risk we all take when we have people around.” The sigh that worked its way out was impossible to stop. “I just don’t want you to think you’re the only one who feels like a failure from that day. I still think about it every waking moment.”

Brecken blinked thoughtfully. I wondered if he got what was between the words; the fact that I was finally facing down the fact that I was still thinking about my mistakes that day, but that I was done running from them. The bastard was more perceptive than I thought as he turned back to face me, a smile working its way across the stern features, and said, “I’m glad you finally decided to come back.”

Oh, if only he knew how much it had taken to stop running from those emotions. Part of my mind cursed me for being traitorous enough to let them out from under wraps, for letting in things that could compromise the mission. The other part felt like a festering wound that had finally been lanced to drain. Although, he probably had a good understanding of what it had taken since he had been the one to sit through my breakdown. 

“Glad to be back,” I finally mumbled. 

“You’ll need to see Lena about those,” he added as he looked once more at my busted face and knuckles. “Then, we’ll talk.”

Rahim’s absence haunted the Tower like a vengeful spirit. The normal cocky swagger accompanied by orders barked out by a throat far too young to be spouting them missing from the air felt like the phantom presence of a missing limb. That, accompanied by the residual shock of the events of the eighteenth floor, made for a rather muted air about the halls. Those who still felt comfortable roaming them remained quiet; the usual banter from guards that could be heard a floor below was even lost. Nobody was in the mood for lighthearted talk when so much bad had happened. 

Jade was missing, too. Lena filled me in on how Rahim had, as I had guessed, attempted to blow up the building where it was assumed monsters were nesting. The half-assed attempt had resulted in both him and another Tower inhabitant meeting their demise before Crane had stepped in to finish the job himself. Night missions wee, I was told, more feasible now, but I couldn’t help but notice the distinct lack of people capable to do them now. While Ayo was still very much in charge of new runners, Jade had been one of the most involved in helping and training new runners after Rahim had put them through the gym and declared them fit to start. Now, I wondered how the hell anything around here was going to get done. 

I sat still under Lena’s light probing and tsk-ing as she examined the worst of my injuries. The split in my lip still smarted after her thorough dousing of alcohol, but there was not much to be done about that. She bandaged the split in the skin on top of the bruising on my cheek, my arm and hand, and declared that my ribs were bruised but not broken, and I should consider myself _very lucky_ and also as reckless as Crane. I reserved judgement on that myself, but I’d fallen asleep on the medical bay bed before I had any chance to whisk up any attempts at an argument. 

That morning, Brecken was much more invasive than she about trying to find out what had happened to me. He eyed me suspiciously when I roamed the headquarters, looking for something to do. “No chance you’re going to own up to whatever took a liking to your face?”

I flashed him a grin, despite the twinge of pain in my lip. “Sharing and caring day was yesterday, mate.” The use of his usual word irritated him as I’d hoped. “Seriously man, let it go. I’m back and I’m ready to work and I’d like to forget about it.”

“Or how the hell you managed to come across Antizin?”

That one, I knew, wouldn’t fly unless answered. So I went with… warped honesty. “Stole them. From someone… not good. Trust me, we need it more than them. Work?” I prompted again.

He seemed resigned to getting nothing out of me. I hoped it was that he trusted me enough to know that I wouldn’t bring anything dangerous back to the Tower. “We could use help preparing kits for runners to take out.”

_Since there aren’t any runners to go out on missions right now anyway_ , my brain supplied. It was a sobering thought. Clearly Brecken was optimistic that soon, there would be more runners to fulfill the Tower’s needs. And for now, I had to admit that I wasn’t in the best shape to make it out there right now. 

“Yeah, yeah. Busy work, I got it.”

The Quartermaster set me up with all the supplies I would need to create bundled kits that runners could grab and go when running missions. The monotonous task was soothing to my previously stressed mind, and gave me more time to sort through my thoughts. I felt surprisingly lighter after my heart-to-heart with Brecken. And from an objective standpoint, he probably trusted me more for it, which helped to keep up my cover. It seemed as though for once, allowing emotion to bleed out was actually beneficial to the mission. 

But it was more than that. I felt lighter than I had in a while, and that was only because I had been able to face certain emotions. I was far from over what happened on the eighteenth floor, but attacking the feeling head on rather than running as I always did had been… helpful.

Maybe it was time to re-evaluate my animosity for Crane.

Most of what I knew came from the background folder the GRE kept on all people involved in missions for them. The director had been convinced it would be helpful for me see it, but looking back, I could safely say all it did was bias me against the man. Reports of his attitude, I hated to admit, were somewhat similar to mine; strong, confident, no-bullshit personality. He was better at what he did than I was, more capable with his years of experience. Anyone who could see what he had done for the inhabitants of the Tower so far would agree with that. My ego would have to be larger than his for that to truly bother me, and it had for a while. And any adult capable of humility would agree with that, too. Yes, I was a good agent. But maybe it was time to try to pride myself on more, to try to better myself.

I packed a bundle of firecrackers against a medkit and slid the bundle into a drawstring bag and mulled that thought over. Maybe it was time to forget bias and start over. Really consider the man for what he did, not for what he had done in the past. Especially considering I didn’t really know who he was in the past. All I had to go on was what the GRE had provided for me, and I knew their track record with honesty was spotty at best.

Huh. Maybe addressing these thoughts earlier would have allowed me to pull my head out of my ass sooner.

“Crane? The fuck you talking about, mate?”

Brecken’s aggravation cut through the hallways of the Tower. I glanced up and was surprised to note that a couple of hours had passed during my reflection. I abandoned the boxes upon boxes laid about around me and went in search.

The former parkour instructor was pacing the floor of Alfie’s room down the hall. The bearded electrical genius was outside the door, a sour look on his face from losing his workshop. I took in Brecken’s stern expression and pacing, which was a normal thing for him whenever he was agitated about something. 

Not good.

I opened my mouth to ask what the frustration was about, but Brecken waved a strong arm in my direction, warning me to keep quiet.

“ _Zere…_ ”

The voice cut through Brecken’s radio, slow and disoriented. Crane, I realized with a start. 

“ _Zere’s…dead_.”

Fuck. Crane was out of his suicide mission, which meant he was emerging from the incomplete base of the quarantine’s most obnoxious tower. The two of us had made it out alive, but I guess the same couldn’t be said for the scatterbrained doctor researching the cure. Ignoring Brecken’s strong-arming, I pushed my way further into the room. “What the fuck is going on?”

Brecken shot me a you think I fucking know kind of expression and followed up into the radio, “Crane? Mate, I need you to talk to me. What the fuck’s going on?”

The button to talk was triggered from his end but only a garbled cry of agony sounded over the waves. At that, I turned and tore out of the room, stopping by the front desk to grab one of the medkits I had been preparing. 

“Jess, wait!” Brecken was behind me, Alfie in tow. I didn’t slow, so he tried again. “Look, I’m not trying to stop you. Best chance he’s at Rais’ garrison. The furthest place from that is the ferry dock. If he’s done anything I’d expect of him, Rais’ men are going to be swarming the damn city looking for him. We need to find him and keep him the hell away from here until that shitstorm dies down, to keep those of us here safe. If you find him first, get him there.”

 

Relief coursed through me, relief only from the fact that I didn’t have to resort to searching for the file myself. My recent dealing with Suleiman left me zero desire to encounter him again. The meeting had left a bad taste in my mouth. That had to be the only reason for the warmth that slowly spread in my chest as I ducked into the shipping crate on the end of the barge and laid eyes on Kyle Crane. 

He was sitting on a wooden bench to the side of the room, leaning and resting his head on the side of the shipping container. Across from him on the floor lay a sleeping bag, a duffel bag next to that. Boxes littered the back of the container. 

Footsteps sounded as Brecken approached from behind me. “Crane, mate, what the fuck? You know I told you to stay awake.”

Crane’s head jerked forward in confusion. His eyes squinted against the dim light inside the container. Even at a slight distance, I could see pain in them. “What?” he grumbled in confusion.

The shorter man walked up to Crane and put his hands on Crane’s shoulders to look him straight in the eye. “I’m serious, mate. You sustained a bad concussion while you were in there, along with God knows what other injuries. Concussion means you have to stay awake. I know it’s difficult, but you need to stay up until we can get you checked out by Lena.” To me, he added, “Stay here and make sure he stays awake. I have to get back to the Tower.”

Naturally, the second Brecken left, Crane tipped his head back again. I marched forward and snapped my fingers twice in front of his face. “Hey. I know you heard what he said. I didn’t almost lose you just to watch you kill your dumbass self by sleeping.”

Lines around his eyes crinkled as a smirk spread across his face. “Almost sounds like you’re starting to care.”

At least the smirk and attitude showed he wasn’t feeling that shitty. Not shitty enough that he couldn’t hide it, anyway. His eyes finally opened again, and I could see that the pupils were more dilated than usual. Probably from the head injury. “Where did you get hit?”

He moved to sit up fully and winced. “Christ on a crutch. Fucking everywhere, feels like.”

“Where the hell even were you? You’re filthy.”

Even if I hadn’t already guessed that he was fighting for both his life in Suleiman’s fucking pit (seriously, who even has one of those), the look that crossed his face at my question was enough to tell anyone that he didn’t want to talk about what he’d just experienced. Pity that I’d hadn’t felt since the safe house night rose up my throat again, threatening to choke me. I thought of that night, the playful banter while we had been stranded at night in the safe zone. Sure, I was grateful to actually get the chance to start things over with him now that he was alive, but this felt… _Why do you care_?

“Right. Sorry. You don’t have to talk about it,” I said aloud. I crossed the container to scrounge up a bucket of water, a few scraps of cloth, the medkit I’d packed in my bag, and a pocket knife. “But you do have to talk about something. I’ll make you a deal. You stay up with me and talk to me, and I’ll patch you up.”

As soon as the words left my mouth, I expected some wise crack about me being his bedside nurse or sponge baths. The mischievous glint that entered his eyes told me he was thinking along the same lines. But he paused and simply said, “Alright, little lady. Tough bargain, but deal.”

“Crane, goddamn it, I’m five foot six. That’s a perfectly average height.” But there was no bite to my words, and my response only deepened the mischief in his eyes. 

I moved my way in closer and sat on the other edge of the bench, enough space between us for my liking. I dipped the cloth in the clean water and began dabbing at the mud caked over one cheek. I’d spent plenty of time during my missions patching up agents much less skilled than myself. I was more than capable of taking care of myself, but I usually couldn’t say the same about other agents I encountered in the field. 

He watched me with the glint still in his eyes, which spread to a smile after a few minutes of silence. “So. No talking after all?” he asked cheekily. 

I ignored his jibe and finished with his face, cloth slightly tripping over the stubble that covered his cheeks. “Take your shirt off.”

The smirk continued. “Changed my mind. I think I like the idea of not talking, if that’s where it’s gonna lead.” But he obliged, wincing as he lifted the hem of his shirt over his head and dropped it on the floor next to us. 

The taut muscle I was expecting to see flew from my mind the second I looked. Bright purple and red bruises covered the muscle, adorning the area around his core. Bruises that looked like they came from a serious beating. It explained why the head injury was bad. I could only imagine the sick things Suleiman had been up to with Crane while I’d been planning my own escape. But this had been worse than I was expecting. There were no obvious breaks evident, other than possibly a few broken ribs. The colorful collage stirred the pity even more as I took in the prominent collarbones, flat space of abdominals, coarse hair that began high on his chest and ran promisingly downward; all covered in spectacular sunset shades. Nobody else in the Tower experienced pain and difficulty even close to this level, and yet here he was doing it yet again. I’d seen him at the end of exhaustion, and now at the end of what was clearly extreme pain. Taking another beating, just for them. “Kyle…”

His expression changed as he watched me taking it all in, turned softer. Chocolate brown eyes met mine, warm and sympathetic, as he said, “Don’t you worry. It’s not as bad as it seems. Although I am still pretty tired,” he added grudgingly. Of course he would try to downplay the seriousness. Worried that I was worried about him, instead of being worried about himself. 

I snapped back to my regular self at this prompting, wanting to do what I could do help with that. I wrung the cloth out and began moving over the strong muscled shoulders. “So. What’s this from?” I poked at a small, almost crescent shaped scar running over the area just under his left third knuckle. 

The question seemed to surprise him, his brow narrowing in slight confusion, before he said, “Uh. When I was fourteen. Exacto knives in art class.”

I chuckled in between swipes with the cleaning cloth. “You in art class?”

“The good old American education system.” He rolled his eyes and then seemed to regret the motion.

“Were you any good?” I moved to the other shoulder and up to his neck, my hand moving over taught muscle. 

“Does my hand make it look like I was good?” he responded incredulously, eliciting another giggle from me. He smiled at the sound. 

I moved around to his other side, noting prominent shoulder blades and strong lines over the planes of his back. Grasping for more conversation, I said, “You never answered my question from the other day. When did you get here? What were you doing in Harran, if you’re clearly from America?”

He went quiet again for a little while he mulled the question over. I made a pass over a particular bruise that made him jump. “I, uh… was in between jobs. Came here for an opportunity I saw, although looking back, might not have been the smartest move.”

“Oh.” My voice sounded smaller than I intended. I knew how to avoid lying by supplying smaller truths that gave no real information, and for some reason the fact that he was lying was somewhat disappointing. I asked, “What’s in your pockets?”

Crane gingerly slid to remove the contents of his cargo pants. I briefly glanced over the common-for-the-apocalypse items (firecrackers, flashlight, extra ammo) until one bright blue thing caught my eye.

“What’s that?”

He seemed to realize what I was referring to despite his mentally limited state and the area of neck in front of me suddenly flushed red. Embarrassment? On him? I finished quickly with the gash and moved back around to face him. He was holding the item in question in sturdy hands. A bear, I realized. A miniature child’s stuffed teddy bear that fit in one large palm.

His voice was low, his eyes down, reminiscing. “I was in the military once. Those fucking care packages that they put together to try to make us feel better, like we’re not living in hell for the next few months? This one was different. Had some good food, even a damn bag of chocolate. And this. The daughter wrote me a letter herself, said this was her favorite friend. He saved her from ‘the monsters that go bump at night’,” he quoted with a small smile. Like he’d read the letter enough times to have the contents memorized. “She said she wanted it to save me from the monsters, too. Had no idea at the time how much that would come in handy.”

I’d put money on it that he kept it with him on every mission they ran out there that deployment. And even every mission now, I realized. Kyle Crane, man with a heart of gold, I guess. He gently set the stuffed bear to the side and let out one of the wariest sighs I’d ever heard. And as a GRE agent, I’d heard some shit. I also realized that I’d stopped what I was doing, resting my palm on his chest, just the faintest layer of cloth between us. I stayed still, met his gaze. I couldn’t tell what he was thinking as he reached up to take the cloth from my hand and place it back in the bucket. 

“You know; I like the sound of you using my first name a lot better.” His eyes traveled up to meet mine again as I lowered my hand. I remained mute, and he slowly slid his hands up to my thighs. His gaze turned more questioning, almost as though he was waiting for me to decide whether to reject what he was doing. I didn’t know how to respond, but the alarm bells weren’t sounding off negatively in my head. Mostly I was curious with what was happening. Curious to see where it was heading. 

He glanced back down, nimble hands roaming up from my knees to my thighs and back down. _Thin wrists_ , I realized with a small smile. 

“Thanks. For what you did for me here. I’m pretty sure I would have just fallen asleep and fucked myself over here,” he joked. When I didn’t respond, he looked up again. I was quiet still, lips slightly parted, unsure of what to say. I didn’t really think there was anything that needed to be said back to that.

Crane’s expression suddenly turned to one of certainty, of quiet determination. In one motion, he hooked his hands in the creases of my bent knees and slid me closer, closing the gap between us, laying the backs of my thighs to rest over top of his. My breath hitched at the closeness. My eyes darted quickly over his face. One hand reached up painstakingly slowly, coming to rest on the side of my face. Almost as though he were again giving me time to think; to reject or to accept. His palms were calloused, warm, and somehow made me feel safer despite the fact that _I_ was the one caring for _him_. I leaned into the touch unconsciously, opening my eyes again when I realized he was pulling my face forward.

Closer than ever. The slightest pause again. And then he was pressing his lips against mine, and they were surprisingly soft for someone who spent the entire day running around in the sun and the heat. And suddenly there wasn’t much else I wanted to think about or focus on except for the heady rhythm of what was happening here. Lips. Touch. Eventually a tongue that slipped gently against mine, slow and careful.

The air around us felt thick as he took his time. Thick and as honey-sweet as his lips. Thick in the sense that there was nothing else happening that mattered more than this. I mused briefly on the irony that never-sit-still Kyle Crane would be the only person in the zombie apocalypse to take away from the sense of living second-to-second and make me feel like I had all the time in the world.

His hand traveled back up my thigh to my hip. I ran my nails down through the hair on his chest. He let out a frustrated grunt, like the closeness wasn’t close enough anymore, as my hand headed down. His hand moved from my face to find its way entangled in my hair and he tilted my head back gently to kiss and nip the skin from my jaw down to my neck. The stubble teasing its way across my skin as he moved sent shivers of anticipation down my spine until his mouth found mine again.

It was all skin and sensation I couldn’t get enough. As my hand gripped his arm for grounding, I noticed again the freckles dotting that shoulder. The thought of tasting those freckles, and the taut skin around them, sent heat through my body. Crane leaned forward and gently tipped me until my back was resting against the wood of the bench.

“Hey mate when you get back, don’t forget-”

I jumped out of my skin and pushed us both straight up; I hadn’t heard Brecken’s approaching footsteps. He was at the entrance to the container, leaning against the door’s edge, an amused expression lighting up his face. I exhaled and brushed my hair back into more order. Crane’s deer-in-the-headlights expression was a mix of amusement, frustration, and just a touch of shame. I slid back, reclaiming my personal space.

“I uh… Sorry guys, forgot something and came back. Didn’t think I’d be interrupting anything.” The fucking shit-eating grin on Brecken’s face. I knew I wasn’t going to hear the end of this back at the Tower anytime soon. “I’ll just leave you two to get back to your uh… _stuff_. Although, anytime you’re ready, you should probably get him back to Lena.”

I exhaled again in frustration at the awkwardness of the ensuing situation as Brecken ducked back outside. I snuck a glance at Crane; he met my gaze with a characteristic smirk, not one ounce of embarrassment remained. 

He wagged his eyebrows at me and said, “So…where were we?”

I leaned down to pick up his shirt and tossed it back to him. “We _were_ heading out to the Tower. Unless your head is suddenly fine and you don’t need medical attention?”

Crane made a face, like he was actually weighing the dangers of ignoring a concussion for the chance to continue what we had started. He pursed his lips at the conclusion. _Pouting, really_? A grown man really should not be allowed to make that face, or to look so adorable while doing so.

And then the adorable moment was, of course, shattered in a Crane-like instant as he muttered, “It’s not _that_ head I’m concerned about now.”

I choked and sputtered out a laugh, finding that I had to duck outside after that comment.


	8. Choices and Decisions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jess receives a startling offer from a certain old friend. Crane stubbornly refuses to acknowledge that he needs to rest after the events in The Pit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thanks for reading! Feel free to submit feedback / comments, I love hearing from you all!

The way back to the Tower felt like a much longer journey than usual. After saying our goodbyes and giving our thanks to those at the ferry station who had given us safe harbor, the two of us set off, making our way up to the silent rooftops that provided enough ease for someone as injured as Crane to navigate the city. It was one of the hottest points of the day, but the midafternoon sun was shielded today by gray clouds that I was grateful for. Not quite dark enough to be rain clouds, which was a good omen. 

There was a slight grin still on my face from his last inappropriate comment, and as we made our way through the afternoon quiet of the city, Crane took notice and asked, “What?”

I glanced at him. “You’re terrible.” 

When he realized it was in regard to his earlier statement, he grinned as I helped him over a wall. “Yeah. But it seems to be working on you.”

I stayed silent until we reached the Tower, partly from that thought, partly because I realized how exhausted I was after such a long day. Tracking his ass down all the way over at Suleiman’s tower, bringing him to the ferry station, and now dragging him back to the Tower as he leaned on me for support, were all weighing on me as the day was winding down. And weighing on my still-bruised ribs in particular, too. 

It wouldn’t have taken me as long to notice had I not been so exhausted, I reasoned. 

The usual rustlings from the undead below and around us were there, of course, but as Crane limped along at my side, I noticed the slightest bit more noise. I frowned as I took it in. Anyone else would have missed it, and in his limited state I wasn’t surprised Crane hadn’t noticed, but it was something I was trained for. Footsteps just the wrong side of too heavy followed. I snuck a sidelong glance downwards and sideways and immediately noted what I had been looking for.

Someone was following us. Two someones. 

Two wasn’t usually more than I could handle. But after seeing Suleiman’s men in action too many times now, I knew how easily two could turn into twenty. Crane still huffed along at my side calmly. I debated how to handle this. An outright attack, common to my brash nature, wouldn’t do any good considering the number of damn zombies in the street below that would take note of the noise. But leading the men back to the Tower wouldn’t be any good. 

Although, I reasoned, they already knew where it was. It wasn’t as though I would be giving away any secrets. 

So I trudged on, my back straining to support Crane’s weight. “You know,” I puffed as I helped him up a particularly tall parapet, “you’re far too heavy for someone who’s been living off of rations.”

A small chuckle escaped, finally breaking his pained silence. “You callin’ me fat?”

“Would you prefer pleasantly plump?”

He swatted at my arm good-naturedly. I dodged away from the playful attack but quickly jumped back to him as he stumbled a bit. Poor guy. Head must be killing him if he really had that difficult a time standing up by himself. I still didn’t know what exactly happened when he faced Suleiman. If my welcome had been considered warm since I knew the guy, I couldn’t imagine what Suleiman did to someone he didn’t really know.

The low noises of our pursuers faded in and out. Far enough away for cover, but close enough that I was aware of the presence. My curiosity was getting the better of me, but I refused to give a sign that I was aware of them. Could startle them the wrong way, and as confident as I was in my abilities, carting Crane’s ass around was tiring me enough that I didn’t want to pick the fight. 

Concrete stairs leading up to the Tower were welcoming as always, a solid weight under my feet that reminded me of the permanence and reassurance of the Tower. I turned back one last time and almost started as I recognized the two following. 

Men, as I’d expected, and on one, I noted a prominent yellow-striped vest. 

The other, though, was completely unexpected. Even after only meeting him twice, I couldn’t miss the glint of the slicked, black-as-the-night-sky hair from here.

Karim. 

Why the fuck had he followed us? He seemed the type to barely leave the safety of the garrison. And why would he, when he could send anyone to get anything he ever needed?

My answer came from the soldier with him. I couldn’t make out any expression from the features obscured by the respirator the man was sporting, but the motion of him coming to stand by Karim and holding a knife to his throat was a clear enough message. I blinked, expecting to be shocked by the sight of Karim’s death, but the soldier kept that hand steady. The other came up to beckon a finger. 

I eased Crane into the base of the Tower and said, “Hold on. Let me get rid of this biter following us.”

As I had thought, Crane was far too tired to care where I was going. I raced back down the stairs, adrenaline giving new life to my tired muscles and easing my climb up to the roof where they were standing. 

“That’s far enough,” the soldier barked through the respirator.

Karim forced a smile that didn’t reach his bruised, blackened eyes. He had taken quite a beating, no doubt from being involved in my escape. Suleiman couldn’t know how much the man had helped, but the self-proclaimed dictator was not one to underestimate those kinds of things. Better to over punish than under punish. “Hello, Jess.” Karim sounded as tired as he looked. 

“Hey, Elvis.” The words almost stuck in my throat as I forced them out. Sure, I hadn’t asked to be helped. But I also couldn’t help but feel bad for the guy who’d clearly paid for his actions in assisting me. To the guard with him, I asked, “The fuck is this about?”

Karim answered for him. “Rais wants… he wants to speak with you.”

I barked out a laugh. “You’re kidding, right? After our last talk?” I held up the bandaged arm for emphasis. 

“He wants to talk to you about a proposition of sorts,” Karim explained, shifting uncomfortably under the blade of the soldier. “Something he thinks you can help with. He told me to tell you it’ll keep you safe. And for added measure, he said that meeting with him will lessen the odds of my blood on your hands.” With a rueful glance at the guard behind him, he added, “Literally.”

So that was how he was going to play it. Use my guilt at Karim’s fate to influence whether I’d agree to a meeting. Suleiman was crafty, I knew, but I was quickly learning exactly how far the former agent was capable of pushing boundaries. He had me here; I didn’t want the guy slitting Karim’s throat in front of me. 

Angrily, I rubbed my sweaty neck and asked, “Where the fuck does he want to meet?”

“He says he can clear the garrison out tomorrow for you two to talk.” The look in Karim’s eyes as he spoke convinced me that my first thought about those words was absolutely correct.

“Fuck that. We’re gonna meet on neutral ground. Tell him I’ll meet him at the pharmacy, the old bandit outpost one, at 0900 sharp tomorrow, or I won’t meet him at all.”

Karim looked momentarily concerned at my refusal until the guard behind him finally nodded his consent. Suleiman must have expected me to do so. I stepped back to the edge of the roof and glanced back one last time. “I’m sorry, Elvis.”

He gave me a tight-lipped smile of acceptance.

I ran back to the Tower and found Crane still waiting in the entranceway, leaning tiredly against one side wall. My arm around his waist was enough to drag him back awake, and he took the steps ahead easy enough. My shoulders sagged at the thought of getting him up into the first inhabited hallway. Thankfully, the guard on duty was available to help Crane up the ledge.  
Because at this point in time, I was sure as hell I couldn’t haul his ass up there. _Pleasantly plump_ , I scoffed to myself. Crane limped down the hallway gingerly, but the guard stopped me from following. 

“Thanks for bringing him back up in one piece.”

His gratitude surprised me, but I managed to get out, “Yeah, man. No problem.” I chewed on that thought as Crane and I took the elevator up. It wasn’t even just that Crane did a lot for these people anymore; they seemed to be used to his presence. Welcome it, even. He had become a permanent fixture during his time here, someone they would miss if he were to… _disappear_. 

That had to be what Suleiman wanted to meet with me about. Something involving either Crane, or perhaps my mission. And I knew the self-proclaimed dictator was more capable of finishing this mission, and finishing me too for that matter.

Once out of the elevator, Crane took the lead and showed me across the hallway toward his room. Inside, I marveled at just the sheer amount of stuff he’d managed to accrue in such a short amount of time. A hazmat suit placed haphazardly in the corner, a guitar sitting against the wall near the door, a large map with specific locations picked out, and a bulging duffel bag on the floor at the end of the bed. And an actual bed, not just a shitty sleeping bag or a mat on the floor. Honestly, the Tower really seemed to be the way to go for people stuck in the shit hole that is Harran. He even had photos pegged on a cork board with writing indicating the types of monsters that could be found inside the city beyond just the normal infected.

He eased himself over to the bed and gradually sat down, grimace sliding from his face as he finally settled. 

I raised my hands in a _stay_ motion and said dramatically, “Alright, try not to go anywhere. I’m gonna go get Lena to come look at you.”

The deadpan look he shot me said it all. Like he was going to get up anytime in the next two days after those injuries. I hurried over to the sickbay and dragged Lena back to his room with me.

She looked pissed, or as pissed as her calm demeanor would let her get. “You need to stop getting so hurt,” she chastised. I swear it was the first time I ever saw him look truly sheepish. She examined him, shining a light in his eyes to check the head injury. She humphed, then said, “You should be okay. You’ve been awake long enough that if you had any brain damage, we would have already seen signs.”

“I’m alright. It wasn’t that bad, really,” he defended himself. 

“You are lucky then. You already have enough brain damage as it is if you think going on a mission like that by yourself is a good idea.” With that, Lena turned on her heel and walked out of the room. 

I stared after her, my jaw dropped in shock. Crane rubbed the back of his neck uncomfortably. I’d never heard anything like that from her. It just further emphasized my point from earlier, I realized with an inward groan. The more time I spent here, the more difficult my mission was seemingly becoming. He was still here, which meant he most likely hadn’t gotten the file from Suleiman. The longer Crane did without the file, the more antsy the Director would become. And the more likely the Director would be to force my hand to… try to convince him otherwise. Via Suleiman’s methods or worse. 

But the people here loved him. If something were to happen to him, they would leave no stone unturned to find out what. 

Ignoring the nagging fact that I could have easily left him to die on the way back to the Tower earlier to finish my mission proved difficult as I watched him unlace his boots. His belt came off next, and he gingerly began sliding his pants down muscular thighs. I busied myself looking more closely at the objects around his room. As I was looking at his guitar, a Yamaha of all things, he said, “You’re welcome to play it. Not sure what happened to yours.”

I turned back around. He was now only clad in boxer shorts, green with polka dots, which I couldn’t help but grin at. I also couldn’t help but grin at his frame. Lean with taut muscle, as always, but I noticed now that he had narrow hips, more narrow without all the clothing usually covering them. The effect was mildly like dumping a bucket of water on a cat. “Alright. Now that you’re settled with an ‘a-okay’ checkup, I’ll get out of your hair.” Though he didn’t have much for me to get into, what with the closely-cropped cut.

“And go where?” He raised his eyebrows incredulously. “I’m pretty sure you haven’t been set up with a room here yet since you’ve been out and about.” He was right, I realized, and he continued with, “You’re welcome to stay here.” He glanced at the chair in the corner, like he was willing himself to stand up and offer to take that.

“No reason I can’t sleep with you, right?” The words were out of my mouth before I could really stop and think about them.

But the suggestive look he gave me didn’t scare me; I knew he would be way too exhausted to follow up on any innuendo or advances he made toward me. Growing more serious, he said, “Fine with me.” 

I crossed the room to turn the light off. Shuffling told me he had shifted to lay down. I turned so that my back was facing him and pulled my long-sleeve shirt off, followed by my sports bra. Considering I didn’t have any of my belongings with me, I figured he wouldn’t mind if I stole a clean shirt out of his duffel. I dragged one on; it was tall enough to fall past my hips, and softer than I’d expected. That left me comfortable enough to shimmy out of my pants, leaving me in just his shirt and my underwear. I could feel his eyes on my back.

As I walked back over and sat on the bed, he shifted slightly to give me more room. I was grateful the bed was against the wall to prevent him from falling off the other edge; the last thing he needed was to hit his head again. I leaned backwards, aware he was lying on his back in the same awkward position. 

He cleared his throat. I was tired, I was momentarily fed up with the weirdness, and I’d had more than enough awkward for the day after being interrupted by Brecken earlier. I turned over, slung one leg in between his, and rested my left hand on his chest, being careful to gently avoid the damaged ribs. He froze, surprised for a moment, and then he shifted his right arm around me so I could nestle in further. I took the opportunity to do so. He was radiating heat. After the long, hot days in Harran being hot at night was the last thing I wanted, but he was surprisingly comfortable. It would be worth a slight night sweat. 

Crane signed. I felt muscle relaxing around me. His other hand came up to trace circles on my arm, brushing over my skin lightly. He planted a kiss on the top of my head before I felt his breathing gradually slow. He put his hand on my back and pulled me in snug, like he was worried I was going somewhere. 

“I’m not going anywhere, big guy,” I said softly.

He hummed, content, and I closed my eyes as my breathing finally slowed to match his.

 

 

Momentary confusion swirled in my mind as I woke not in a safe house, but somewhere where there was a bright yellow hazmat glaring at me from the corner. I blinked. I was entangled in something warm and heavy. Limbs, I realized, even if the grip made it feel like far more than the average number of human limbs. Crane’s limbs. At some point during the night, the man had entangled me in his grasp like a blanket might after much tossing and turning. Strong arms held me close, chest pressed to his, and even his legs were entwined with mine. 

The entire thing felt like being constricted by some kind of snake. Except for the occasional patches of fuzz instead of scales. The chest hair I’d noted on prominent muscles yesterday was much closer today. The freckles, I also noticed, tipped down to his shoulder blades, not just the shoulders themselves. His expression was open. Almost vulnerable, I dared to say. He always talked about a lack of sleep, but now I could see that when he did sleep, the guy slept like the dead. I slowly disentangled myself from the great Crane snake without waking him. He grumbled slightly at the loss but slept on. 

My pants and shirt from yesterday were sweaty and somewhat grimy, but I didn’t have the luxury of fresh clothes since mine were all at the last safe house I slept in. Besides, I thought as I tugged my pants up my legs, not like I needed to try to impress Suleiman. 

The meeting loomed over me and set my stomach on edge. I wasn’t sure what Suleiman wanted. I wasn’t even sure this meeting wasn’t a trap. But the thought of Suleiman needing something from me did make me feel somewhat powerful. I glanced at my watch. There was enough time for me to grab something out of rations and make my way over to the pharmacy where Crane and I had made our first run.

Morning in the city was always significantly quieter, even this late, and my run over to the building was uninterrupted. All my tactical training told me to scope the place out for reinforcements, so I did so from the roof of a nearby building. Nobody entered or left the pharmacy as I watched, which either meant nobody was there, or they were all waiting for me from the shelter of the building. I wasn’t sure which would be a worse idea. 

One check to make sure my pistol was strapped and ready and then I leaped the gap to the pharmacy roof and dropped into the fenced-in area. 

No immediate noise or blows hit me. I turned slowly. Suleiman was seated on the edge of the concrete foundation of the pharmacy, elbows rested on his knees. There was something wrong with the way one of his arms was leaning, a certain unbalanced air to the man that hadn’t been there before. My gaze narrowed. His right hand was gone, severed from what looked like just below the wrist. It was heavily bandaged, but the man did not seem less powerful as a result. Looked more like scars on a tiger; even more deadly as a result. He looked up upon my entrance and sat still, regarding me silently. 

I broke through my frozen state and met his gaze with my chin high. I refused to break first.

He seemed to sense this. The corners of his mouth twitched darkly. “Jess. You and I have much to discuss.” When I still didn’t speak, he stood and crossed his arms behind his back. The straight, imposing stance hadn’t changed despite the fact that he was down an appendage. “It seems that you may be able to help me with something I need. You see, I thought for a while that our good friend Kyle Crane was the biggest liar in this city. But after talking with your good doctor before I had him gutted like an animal, it seems that there is another snake in the grass in this fair city.” Suleiman paused, taking a few measured steps toward me. I stood my ground, feeling much like a gazelle being circled by a predator. Feeling like he was thinking about gutting me right now instead of Zere. His dark eyes regarded me coolly. “Crane is here because he believes that our GRE brethren are working toward the, what is it they say, the ‘greater good’? The file he is here to steal was not the cure as he was lead to believe. It was the GRE’s plan to weaponize the virus.”

This was definitely news to me. I fought the strong urge to take a shocked step back. _Weaponize_? They hadn’t told me what was on the file, but I hadn’t expected something as terrible as that. They weren’t paying me to think about it; they were paying me to do whatever it was they deemed necessary. And knowing that now, I could understand why they had been so desperate to get it back. That kind of bad PR was devastating, and extremely difficult to come back from. My gaze remained impressively passive. Training paying off, I guess. 

But Suleiman, the son of a bitch, could probably see right through me. His smirk widened. The predatory intent of his gaze clearer than ever. “So. You can see, Jess, where Crane’s plans to stop me may prove to be… a bad thing for the world. I have already set in motion plans to publish the file. It will be finalized shortly. Because that is what needs to be done. However, I am also aware of what you are here to do.”

I frowned ever so slightly. How could he possibly know?

“You truly are the biggest liar of this city. There could be no other reason than for you to be here than to be, how you say, an insurance policy? The trash at the Tower does not know you do not care about them even slightly. Just an unfortunate part of the mission. And I’m sure Crane also does not know why you are here.” My stomach dropped as he flashed teeth in dangerous smile. “Which brings me to my proposition, sweet Jess.” 

His presence seeped like poison through the immediate area. While he wasn’t that much taller than me, I felt like he was towering over me. The amount of power he wielded with his knowledge alone was stifling. 

“I know you are here to keep an eye on Crane. But our GRE brethren do not want you to do so for the right reasons. They have proven before that they cannot be trusted.” Suleiman stepped in further. Like his presence, his scent choked the scene; some kind of spice, the hint of sweat. I couldn’t move or breathe without being engulfed by him. I couldn’t escape him now, and I had been fooling myself by thinking I could escape him before. He was everywhere. “So I am offering you a chance to do something for the right reasons. I see that Crane trusts you. He has a certain soft spot for you. I do not want him interfering with my plans. So stop Crane.” He held my gaze. His breath fanned my face as he took a second’s pause to add, “Or I will use you to stop him.”

And suddenly, he was moving out of my space, and leaving the safe zone. 

I let out the breath I hadn’t realized I had been holding. _Fuck. Fuck it all to hell._

He knew. Suleiman knew everything. And like my mission to keep Crane on track at all costs, I had no idea how the hell to handle this new situation. I sagged down to sit on the same concrete that had just been occupied by the predator of a man moments ago. Thoughts flew rapidly through my mind. 

So the GRE hadn’t been truthful at all with the reasons the file was so important. Was that a surprise to me? Not even slightly. But still, using the virus as a weapon? Now that I’d seen firsthand exactly the chaos this virus had created, I wasn’t so sure the GRE having the biological agent in their hands was such a good thing. Had the local government not been able to contain Harran as quickly as it had, the entire world could have gone to shit. And I doubted that if the virus was used as a weapon, the user would be thinking about that fallout.

Suleiman had revealed the truth about the file, but I couldn’t imagine he did it out of the goodness of his black heart. There was something in this for him, some reason he had waited until now to go public with the information in the file. I tried to think about events over the past few days that could have influenced his decision but my mind was still racing. 

He had published the file, so what possible reason would Crane have to still be going after it? The GRE hadn’t contacted me about any change in plans, which meant that his plan still had to be the same; get the file back. Suleiman could have withheld some pages to influence how people would see the file. It wouldn’t surprise me for Suleiman to do so if it meant deceiving people and creating a different image of the GRE. Especially after what happened with his brother.

Hm. That one made more sense.

It would also explain why Suleiman wanted me to stop Crane from going after him. Crane would stop at nothing to find the missing pages and expose Suleiman for the bastard he was, if that was what was happening. 

Until I got any new intel from the GRE, that would be the assumption I would operate under. Which meant my mission was still pretty much the same. The GRE wanted Crane to get the file back so I had to make sure Crane stayed true to that goal; Suleiman wanted to make sure Crane never got his hands on the information and was willing to kill him to do so. I’d have to make sure that Crane stayed alive and safe and focused enough to succeed in getting the file back. 

Simple, right?

 

 

The former of those goals proved to be much more difficult than I’d anticipated. I knew Crane was as stubborn as they come, but I was proven to have misjudged just how stubborn when I came back to the Tower to find his room empty. I jogged down the hallway to the headquarters and ducked my head inside. “Is Crane here?”

Brecken looked up from the map. I swore he was going to get a permanent crimp in his neck from how much he was bent over that paper. “Oi? No, he said he was going to be in his room all day.”

I rubbed my face. It was only eleven in the morning and I was already frustrated and exhausted. “He’s not there. Where the hell is he?”

The Tower’s leader paused for a second, then clutched at his radio. “Has anybody seen Crane?” To me, he added, “Bloody hell, I didn’t think the wanker was this stupid.” 

One of the guards responded through the radio immediately. “Yeah, he was down here earlier talking with Alfie. Something about how we lost gas in the upper floors.”

I breathed a sigh of relief. As I was headed that way, Brecken called after me, “You make sure you get his ass back here!”

I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. _No, Brecken, I thought I’d help him go for a nice stroll_. Men, honestly. I tapped my foot with impatience the entire way down to the first floor. The electrical genius had his back to me by the time I finally approached his office. 

My hand enclosed over the right side of his neck as I slid past him to appear on his left. “Hey Alfie. Got a question for you.”

The man turned his bearded face toward me. “Uh, yeah. What is it?”

I tightened my grip slightly but firmly. “Where _the fuck_ did you send Crane?”

Alfie’s lips tightened. “We just lost gas in the Tower. Crane went to find out gas guy, Jeff, since he up and quit last week. Haven’t got a damn clue how to turn it back on, and that guy’s the only one who does.”

“Fuck, Alfie, Crane just got back from a suicide mission. He’s supposed to be resting!”

A shrug. “He said he was fine.”

I ran my free hand through my hair. “Alfie. Where the fuck is Jeff?”

“He built up a fortress behind the train station near the Wheel Station. Or so I’m told.”

Fortunately, Crane’s ribs were bothering him much more than he had been letting on. I found him on a roof of one of the small buildings between the Tower and the pharmacy bandit-outpost. When I hauled myself up the wall and came face-to-face with him, he was sitting with his back up against another wall, rubbing his neck and staring at the ground in defeat. 

“I would say you’re lucky I found you before anything else, but the jury’s still out on how bad this ass-kicking is about to be,” I grunted. I offered my hand to him. 

He refused to even glance up at me. My first thought was to compare him to a sulking child. Because that was exactly what he was acting like. I was sure he hadn’t expected for me to catch up to him, but those bruises to his abdomen really were serious enough to stop even the toughest man. But then I thought back to the night in the safe house and how antsy he was to get back to doing something, anything, to help the people. How he hated feeling useless. 

I sighed and crouched down to get on his level. Alright, not a sulking kid. He was just someone used to not relying on anyone. He was used to being the one everyone relied on for everything. Getting in contact with Jeff to get him to fix the gas at the Tower had to be the easiest mission, yet he had fallen short. That had to be a stinging slap to the face. Crane was far too stubborn to admit that he was too hurt to help out, even if that meant straining his body yet again.

And now that I knew Suleiman was in waiting to have Crane killed for his efforts, I felt even more of a tug of protectiveness toward the man. “Look, Crane–”

“Fuck off.”

The response surprised me into dropping my jaw slightly. I hadn’t been expecting such hostility. Part of me was offended; the other rational part reminded me that he was like a wounded animal. Wounded physically, and with wounded pride. But sooner or later the guy had to admit that everyone needed help.

“Not likely,” I snapped. Tough love was the way to go. “Come on. Get up, I’m taking you back up to the Tower.”

He winced as he shifted, which just seemed to fuel more of the frustration. “Thanks _Mom_ , but I think I’ve got things handled here.”

“Kyle, please.” Using his first name had the effect I’d been shooting for; he winced, but this time guiltily. “You need to rest. Just a day or two. If something happens to you, the people here will never forgive themselves. You matter to them. So instead of telling the people who saved your ass when you came dropping in here to fuck off, why don’t you pay them the decency of at least pretending you understand that they want what’s best for you and come with me back to the Tower.”

Crane stared at me as though he didn’t believe what I’d dared to say. He swallowed uncomfortably and rubbed the back of his neck. 

The Suleiman’s deep voice suddenly filled my head. _I see that Crane trusts you. He has a certain soft spot for you_. The Director had implored me to use the same kind of manipulation before my mission. I felt sleazy pulling the card, but admitting that it was also because I genuinely cared about his well-being made me feel better for playing it. 

“Come back to the Tower. For me. Please, Kyle.”

A wary sigh met my words, followed by a tired chocolate-brown gaze. “Fucking fine, Jess. Alright. I’ll come back. But only for a goddamn day or two, got it?”

I cracked a smile and quipped, “I’d ask if you kiss your mother with that mouth, but after earlier today and your first response, I already have my answer.”

He gave up some of the anger and grudgingly huffed a chuckle. “Duly noted; never call you Mom again.”

I didn’t feel better about Crane’s condition until I helped him through his doorway for the second time in two days. He eased his frame slowly back onto the bed and exhaled in quiet relief. I didn’t miss that, although I knew teasing him about it would only bring the wounded animal back out. 

As he settled, though, I couldn’t help but make at least one crack. “So, are you going to stay here this time, or do I have to tie you down?”

A slow, salacious grin spread from within his stubble. “Well, I wouldn’t complain.”

I moved forward to the edge of the bed, leaning down ever so close to his face. I flicked my eyes from his eyes to his lips, lingering for a few seconds, before I glanced back at his eyes, a grin of my own starting. I lightly brushed my lips across his painstakingly slowly before I whispered in his ear, “Don’t tempt me.”

With that, I turned and strode back out of the room, my victorious grin hidden from view. I needed a few supplies from Lena, and I was sure my response would keep him there for some time. As I waited, I thought about my actions. Hm. That response would have fallen in with what the Director suggested I do to manipulate the man, except this time, I did it without even thinking. I wanted to wind him up simply because it had seemed playful. And was clearly something that Crane had had on his mind for a while, if yesterday in the shipping crate had been any indication.   
And I hadn’t exactly been complaining myself. 

Lena stocked my arms with extra bandages, ice packs, antibiotic cream, and had even prepared some hot soup, a delicacy usually saved for the sickest of patients. Despite her stern words, the Tower doctor was worried about Crane. I gave her a reassuring smile as I left, supplies in hand, and headed back up to Crane’s room.

I was amused to see that he hadn’t moved an inch. He finally sat up when I handed him one of Lena’s cups of soup. “Eat,” I commanded. His mouth twitched, and I guessed he had just barely held back from calling me Mom again. I smirked. 

He dug in. I remembered that the last time I was with him, he had answered many questions about himself. Looking back, some of what I got from him seemed too personal to be one way, so as he ate, I entertained him with stories from stories from my past. I avoided the GRE and military ones, if nothing else than for the fact that they were rather depressing. I stuck with family stories, school stories, stories of embarrassment that had the usually stern face relaxed with easy laughter. We swapped first date stories and embarrassing family stories and eventually stories of shared depression and trials. Talking with Crane was easier than the fall into the quarantine had been, I realized. He was smarter than he let on, kinder than he let on. 

Time passed, as thick and slow as last time, until I noticed it had gotten dark. The scene unfolding in front of me was far from anything I’d ever expected when I thought back on the day I had met the pain-in-the-ass-runner. Crane was lying on his back, legs slightly spread comfortably, one arm tucked up between his head and the pillow so he could look down at me. I traced the strong lines of that bicep; he really was a study in good muscular anatomy. The light eyes I had become accustomed to seeing were heavy-lidded with tiredness, the lines of his forehead and between his brows slack. The smile that had been tugging at his lips all night was warm and inviting. Where Suleiman’s presence and scent had been suffocating, Crane’s was softer, more intoxicating than anything. Being around him was easier than I’d expected, when he wasn’t being a mouthy little shit. 

I told him exactly that, and he laughed a low grumbling laugh that shook me slightly from where I was perched, my chin resting high on his chest. The rest of me was draped lightly over him, careful to avoid putting too much pressure on sensitive parts. I leaned up to escape the shaking and shifted to lean my chin in one hand. 

“C’mere,” he murmured. “If you don’t like how I’ve been using it, why don’t you put my mouth to good use?”

The challenge in his voice was something I definitely didn’t want to back down from. I leaned my body up slowly so as not to bump his ribs and teasingly brushed my lips across his again. He was far more prepared this time, using one hand to pull my face closer for a genuine kiss. The other slid down my lower back to pull me in closer. If his smile was warm and inviting, his kisses tasted like home. His hands slid everywhere as we traded kisses as easily as we had traded stories until exhaustion finally set in. 

He kissed the top of my head again before drifting to sleep like it was old habit, and as I settled into the warmth of his chest, I thought it was odd how the entanglement of limbs didn’t seem as foreign to me as it had this morning.


	9. Breakdown

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jess bites off a little more than she can chew in clearing out the 18th floor, but luckily, Crane is there for her to lean on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay in chapters, but real life is hitting me like a trainwreck. I've also gotten a bit stuck with some parts of the story, but I hope to have things wrapped up in the next few chapters. Thanks to those of you who are still sticking with the story!

“Stupid. You stupid, motherfucking, _cliché_.”

The hot concrete under my back burned slightly, but not as much as hatred for myself was burning internally. Early in the morning was the perfect time of day to soaking up precious, self-deprecating personal time on the roof. I spat, “You fucking _bullshit_ , piece of crap, has-been. You call yourself an agent? FUCK.”

How was it that I had not only got roped into a kind of mission I swore I wouldn’t let myself get sucked into, but now I didn’t even have it in me to finish the mission? I was fuming. I was absolutely pissed at myself. The old tried-and-true mission killer; I was falling for Crane. Me. One of the best, most capable agents the GRE had turned out in the past few years. Able to kill a man with only my arms in under a minute, and yet I couldn’t touch Kyle Crane. Not in the way the GRE wanted me to, anyway. 

“Fuck.” I followed up with that last expletive before I sat up and glanced at the yellow radio in my hand. It was mocking me, I swear. But not as bad as the Director had mocked me over the radio just now. I was still grimacing at the conversation.

_Tell me you’ve almost achieved your mission. Because we haven’t gotten the file from you or from Crane, and that means it’s STILL in Suleiman’s hands. After our last contact with Crane, it seems as though he may be the problem we were anticipating. He doesn’t exactly agree with our suggested mission methods. I thought I explained your mission goals clearly, but maybe the heat has damaged your brain beyond understanding normal English!_

Humiliating. I’d never fucked up a mission before. I always finished my missions, and finished them better that most other agents could. So what was different this time? Crane, I guess. Crane was far different than any other man I’d met before.

 _Great. More clichés, Jess. Keep ‘em coming. Maybe they’ll pay your bills once you get canned for being such a failure_.

At this rate, not only was I not going to get paid for not finishing the job; they would probably leave my ass to rot in the city. And then where would I be? Royally fucked. And for what, for Crane? So that he could live another week before he got himself killed on yet another suicide mission?

 _He’s not going to get the file_ , I tried to tell myself. _Does it seem like he gives a shit about the job anymore to you? He came face to face with Suleiman for what? For a damn scientist, not for the file. He infiltrated the garrison and didn’t give any though to finding the file. The only thing that should matter is the file, and it’s clearly the furthest thing from his mind_.  
I tossed the radio down angrily and rubbed my face with my hands. How the hell did I get myself into this mess? The only thing I did know was that I needed a way to get this anger out. I stood and punched the nearby metal antenna base, only to shout, “Fuck!” again. At least I’d been smart enough to use my left hand. I clutched it through the painful vibrations. 

_Go do something useful with yourself_.

I grabbed the radio with a huff and headed back down to the stairs. Without thought, I found myself down in the sick bay. Lena was busying herself with patients. She squeezed herself uncomfortably around the plethora of people and boxes in the room. Several of the beds were occupied by more than one person. 

She stopped only to give a one-word greeting before immersing herself in the work again.

“Kinda cramped in here, isn’t it?” I noted as I continued to look around.

Lena shot me a _you think?_ kind of look. “Ever since we lost the eighteenth floor, we have been running out of space. Some of these people share regular beds, too.”

The eighteenth floor was a touchy topic for the people of the Tower, and for me as well. I hadn’t thought about the events since my moment of reflection. I sighed at the thought. “So…” I tried to figure out how to organize my next thought. She stopped and regarded me curiously. The topic was touchy because although there was nothing but zombies down there, they would still be seen as the people the Tower had come to love. But, survival of the fittest, right? Life is for the living after all. “If _someone_ were, to say, clear it out down there…”

She understood both what I said and I was thinking. We knew people would probably be upset at the loss of their loved ones but… they were already lost, weren’t they? It was a tough call. “ _If_ the eighteenth floor were to be cleared out, we would have more space, yes. It might be _difficult_ to move our things back down there but… I think it would be for the benefit of those of us _still here_. Moving back down there will take a lot of help, though. It’s not a one-man job,” she added with another knowing look.

Her agreeing with me was all I needed. I gave her a nod and headed back out to the hallway. My gun was still strapped solidly to my thigh with a full clip. Two extra sat in my backpack, which also contained firecrackers, throwing knives, alcohol, a medkit; everything I needed. I walked quietly to the elevator, careful not to attract any attention. I especially didn’t need Crane finding out what I was up to; he would surely try to put a stop to it. I stepped inside and pressed the button for the floor below.

 

 

_Crane?! Crane, where the fuck are you? Get down here!_

The words sounded muddled, like they were reaching me through gallons and gallons of water. Vision suddenly returned to my eyes. They hadn’t been closed; it felt more like I’d recovered from being momentarily blind. The walls, ceiling, floors, _everything_ around me was covered in blood. Red mist in the air even settled as I became aware that the elevator door was open, shedding light into the dark, bloody hallway.

Hallway. I was in a hallway. Feeling rushed into my cramped knees. I was sitting in a corner with my legs tucked up against my chest. My hands were wrapped around something so tightly that my knuckles shown whitely through the dark. The gun. I was holding the pistol in front of me, pointed straight, held expertly. Blood dropped steadily from my arms and hands. 

Two people had stepped off the elevator and were standing afar, out of the range of the handgun in front of me. Thoughts of lowering it didn’t even cross my mind. To be fair, not much crossed it. I became aware of bodies around me. Few were whole; the rest were missing limbs, heads, or had large holes in various places. Some leaned up against me, against the walls around me. A headless stump rested half way up my lap. The two people in front of the elevator talked amongst themselves. I couldn’t hear the conversation over the pounding of my heartbeat in my ears. My head felt light. I blinked to clear my vision again. 

The elevator door closed and then opened again. A tall, lean figure emerged and talked with one of the two until the head turned toward me. The figure bolted toward me, dropping to its knees to slid toward me. A dark face glided toward me, chocolate brown eyes radiating concern. _Kyle_. His mouth worked but what came out was silent to me. 

His gaze slid toward the gun aimed recklessly at his chest. He reached over slowly, fearfully. I wanted to tell him there was no worry there, that I couldn’t move to pull the trigger if I even wanted to, but I couldn’t figure out how to open my mouth or form the words. Gingerly, he peeled my fingers back and pulled the gun from my grip. The release of the pressure to my hands surged through my fingers. Pain lanced through my left hand. The metal. Remembering where I’d struck the metal earlier grounded me slightly.

“Jess?” His voice finally broke through the radio static in my head. “Jess, can you hear me? Are you okay?”

I turned and met his gaze. When I didn’t respond, a female voice I recognized spoke up. “She’s in shock, Kyle. But so far you’ve gotten more response out of her than we have.” _Lena’s voice_.  
Shock? What was she talking about?

“Jess? Hey. Look at me.”

I faced Crane again. Stared into the light eyes. He looked me up and down. “Are. You. Okay? Can you stand?” He glanced around at the biters piled up around me, some still leaking blood. “Fuck. What were you thinking?” He gently took my face in his hands, wiping some of the blood off one of my cheeks with a rough thumb. “The fuck would I do if we had to leave you down here?”

The concern and sadness radiating through his voice finally brought something back. I opened my mouth and found that it was incredibly dry but I managed to croak out, “Kyle…”

He hung his head for a moment, sighing in relief. “That’s good.” Over his shoulder to Lena, he called, “That’s good, right?”

“Right,” she called back. “But we need to make sure she isn’t severely injured under all that blood. We need to get her back up to nineteen.”

Crane turned back to me. “Can you stand?”

I opened my mouth but no sound emerged. He sighed again and said, “Lena, I hope you’re right. Jess, for fuck’s sake, please don’t hurt me for this.” Crane removed his hands and shoved them under my legs and back before he grunted and heaved me up off of the floor, murmuring, “Alley-oop” as he did so. I remained silent as he carried me over to the elevator. I zoned out again during the elevator ride up and came to as shouting ripped through the otherwise silent floor.

“OI! She better not be fucking dead because I’m going to kill her myself!” Brecken came striding aggressively toward us. “The fuck did she think she was doing down there? She could have gotten herself killed!” 

Crane grunted and shifted me slightly. “Brecken, for once, I completely agree with you. But considering the fact that I just got beat to shit in Rais’ garrison yesterday, she’s a little heavy for me right now. I’ll let you rip her a new one later after I get through with her first, but right now, she still needs help.” With that, he turned and headed toward his room. He veered off to stop in the bathroom. To me, he said softly, “Now, if I put you down, you gonna stand?” I didn’t respond, but he weighed his options for a second before he let my feet down and stood me up. I swayed slightly but stayed long enough for him to run to his room and back. 

He closed the door behind him and turned the shower nobs until water came streaming into the stall. “We need to get you in there to wash that blood off. Because there’s a lot, and I’m not sure if it’s coming from you, and if you bleed out on me here…” His voice trailed off. My traitorous body still refused to move, and by this point, it was frustrating even to me. When I stayed still, he added, “Alright. My turn, I guess.” He came closer slowly as though I was an animal he didn’t want to startle. I wished I could tell him I wasn’t going to snap and hit him or anything, but Lena was right; the shock had a hard grasp over my muscles. 

Gripping the hem of my blood-soaked shirt, Crane slowly lifted it up and off me. The blood had even soaked through onto my skin, I realized, as he grimaced at the sight of so much blood plastered to my abdomen. He paused, unsure, before he committed to the best care possible by undoing my bra. He maintained eye contact until he crouched to unlace my boots next, then my pants, and then helped me step out of both and into the shower. 

The cold water was a welcome jolt to my body, helping me gain awareness of my surroundings. I heard Crane rustling outside the curtain before it was pulled back. My eyes met tan skin and lean muscle. He’d stripped down to just boxers and slid into the space behind me in the shower, cloth in hand. Slowly, as the water ran over both of us, he began gently scrubbing at the now-congealing blood covering my body. The bottom of the tub ran red as he worked. The more he scraped off, the more his tense shoulders loosened; I seemed to be mostly injury-free. When he was satisfied with my back and shoulders, he softly turned me to face him. His eyes were searching mine again, until he set to scrubbing down my arms, my chest. The rough cloth was a welcome sensation from the void I’d felt in the floor below. His other hand followed the cloth, ending the rubbing in a softer sensation. 

When he finished his examination and saw that I’d only sustained a few nasty scratches and possibly a sprained wrist, he let out a long sigh. I met his gaze and said very quietly, “Thank you.”  
He dropped the cloth and pulled me into strong arms, into a tight embrace. I sighed. We stayed still and quiet, water still running over both of us, until he muttered, quietly but very strictly, “Don’t you _ever_ fucking do anything like that again. _Ever_. Unless I’m with you. _Got it_?”

The sternness and anger didn’t scare me since it was caused by fear and care. He pulled away enough to put a hand under my chin and tilt my head up to meet his eyes. His mouth was suddenly on mine, insistent, as he pulled my body closer again. He kissed my forehead just as fiercely before he repeated, “ _Got it_?” 

I nodded and fought the urge to cry for some reason. I hadn’t cried in, fuck, years probably. More than three. And yet something about his fierceness for my safety... “Yeah, Kyle,” I rasped. “I got it.”

He managed a smile before he turned the knobs to off, stepped out of the shower, and then handed me a towel. _Typical man_ , I scoffed to myself. Getting the floor soaking wet by getting out of a shower with no towel. I accepted the one he handed me and quickly dried myself. As he scrounged around for one of his own, I padded into his room. Once my torso was dry, I opted for ditching my underwear to keep drying before exhaustion suddenly pooled over me. I dropped the towel and crawled into Crane’s bed, grateful for the warmth of the sheets.

Footsteps echoed off the bedroom walls as he entered the room and closed the door behind him. He chuckled at me snuggled up, sheets pulled to my neck. Something dropped to the floor, probably his towel, before the bed dipped beside me as he sat. As he lay, I turned and snuggled up to him. 

“Thank you,” I whispered again.

His head shook above me and he rested his lips on the top of my head. “The hell were you thinking?” he asked finally.

I didn’t have an answer. Not one I could admit, anyway. How could I tell him I took out an entire floor of zombies because I’d been angry that I was failing at my mission to kill him? The last thing I wanted to think about was my GRE situation, anyway. “I just… Wanted to help.”

“I coulda helped, too.” His thumb traced circles over the skin of my back.

The motions of his hand were nice, and I basked in distraction for a bit before I responded. “You just got back from a damn suicide mission, as you pointed out to Brecken earlier. How was I supposed to ask you for help?”

An exasperated sigh met my comment. “I still coulda helped. You needed someone watching your back. Or someone talking you out of such a stupid endeavor.”

It was my turn to sigh in frustration. Him, of all people, chastising me for doing something stupid. I propped myself up on my uninjured hand to look at the outline of his head in the darkness. Well, to glare, not look. “Yeah, I get it, okay? It wasn’t my best idea. I fucking get it.”

“Do you?” He leaned up closer to my face, gaze meeting mine intently, as he repeated, “Do you really get it?”

“Yeah, _Crane_ , I do. Just because–”

I was silenced as he pulled my face in for a kiss. His leg came up and over to the other side of my body so that his was on top of mine, his weight resting on his forearms. His hand found its way into my wet hair, holding my head. _Like I would be going anywhere now_ , I thought briefly. This was a far cry from yesterday’s session in the shipping container. Instead of taking his time, he was licking into my mouth with unmeasured intensity and need.

He broke the kiss and rested his forehead down on his hand for a minute. “Do you get it? After everything, you go and nearly get yourself killed. Don’t you think I’ve fucking lost _enough_ people?” He brought his head back up to look down into my eyes. They searched mine for a minute. “But you’re not just people. You’re not just anyone to me anymore –do you really _get it_?”

Just like that, it clicked. _Fuck_. Did he just…?

“I _can’t_ lose you. I won’t.” He didn’t finish his thought; not in words, anyway. He claimed my mouth in another kiss, and I ran my hand down one of his strong arms. 

I leaned up and tipped him sideways until he was lying on his back again. I trailed kisses up one arm and down his chest, reveling in the chance to finally taste those freckles on his shoulder, until I made it back up to his strong jaw. He groaned in exasperation and kissed me again as he ran his hand down my back. He pulled me down, warm skin meeting mine. The coarse hair that ran down his abdomen tickled my stomach. I smiled into the kiss, and he tipped my head back to see what I was smiling about. I shook my head, meaning that it was nothing. Nothing worth noting, anyway, now that I finally had the chance to feel all of that skin and muscle in front of me.

His gaze traveled from my face, down my shoulders, as his hands followed where he was looking. The touch of calloused skin against mine was _wonderful_ , and something I hadn't realized I had missed. Everything was skin and sweat and hot, and I kissed him again, tongue dancing with his. His hands traveled up my thighs, eliciting breathy sighs from me, until they came to rest on my hips. He paused as I gazed down at him. 

And then in one quick motion, he pulled my hips down as he rocked his up and found himself smoothly inside of me. I gasped at the sudden sensation as he moaned and pulled me down for another long, passionate kiss. I worked my hips up into a steady rhythm that left us both gasping for air, gripping each other tightly, as the night passed.

 

 

The morning sunlight filtering through the window reached and began warming the end of the sheets at my feet. I was turned toward the wall, Crane's front pressed flush up against my back, one hand thrown over my waist. I squinted at the light and gave a grumpy grunt in response. I hadn't slept much for one very good reason. But my morning yesterday flashed through my mind; my cathartic shouting session and call with the GRE on the roof nagged at me. 

What the fuck was I going to do about all of this? My situation certainly hadn't gotten any less cliché in the 24 hours since that call, but I at least felt less agitated. Did the job even fucking matter anymore? Like Crane, I imagine, I felt a connection to the people here, and almost an obligation to help them since I was able. No one here, not even Crane, would have been able to do what I did to clean out the eighteenth floor. Did that mean I should stay and help? 

He didn't seem to be too worried about the file anymore. What did that matter? Suleiman had maintained control of the file for quite some time now, and the world was still turning. So what was he waiting for? Was there even any threat associated with it? 

_Not to me_ , I thought. _Not to us, anyway_. The only threat that would follow would come from how the GRE would react to the both of us not doing our jobs, but what they fuck could they do? Leave us here? That had probably been their end game all along, anyway.

Crane stirred behind me, pressing a kiss into the back of my neck. "Can't sleep?"

I smiled. His morning voice was even deeper than his usual, I found. "Just woke up to think." 

He followed up with two more kisses before he slid out of bed. I turned to face him in surprise as he began slipping on his clothes. 

"Where are you going?" I asked.

The sudden tell-tale ringing of the yellow standard-issue GRE radio answered me. I kept my face straight as he winced slightly, gaze following mine to rest on his radio. _Right. Of course_.

"Look." He sat back down as he tugged a clean shirt over his head. "I'm... I want you to know I'm coming back. I have to take care of something, but as soon as it's over I'm coming right back here. Last night wasn't just a one-time thing for me, I'm hoping, if you're not sick of me already." I smiled at that comment, but his face fell slightly as he continued. "So... I need to be honest with you about something." He ran his hand through his hair in exasperation, as though the words were hard to put together. I realized with a sinking feeling what was happening as he began with, "Look. I'm... I’ve been working for the GRE. I'm here because... Fuck, I'm here because I have a job to do. That's how this all started but... I swear this isn't just a job to me now. The thing I had to do was important but..."

"I know." The small voice slipped out unconsciously, and I winced.

"...what?"

I opened my eyes. He was staring back at me, confusion and wariness in his expression. I sighed. No point trying to hide now. I was fucking sick of hiding, anyway. "I know. Your mission, I mean. Suleiman, _Tempest_? I know everything."

Crane opened his mouth, looked at the door, and then closed it. "What do you mean?" he asked slowly. I could see the gears in his mind turning rapidly. His brow narrowed. And then it came together. He took a step away. "Fucking... No fucking way."

"The Director sent me in after you. My cover was to pose as a Harran native and keep an eye on you to make sure you were complying with their orders. I was supposed to get close to you in the event that you weren’t able to get the file..."

Anger flashed over the handsome features, more anger than I'd ever seen from him before. I sat up as he growled, "Complying with their orders? You think I should've listened to those bastards and just fed people to fucking monsters because of their goddamn _file_?! You've got to be fucking _kidding me_ ," he spat ferociously. "That's what this fucking was? You sneak your way in here, into my _fucking bed_ , so that when I finally tell those assholes to fuck off, you have all the chance in the world to... What, fucking kill me? For money? Over their goddamn _file_?!" He paced back and forth a second before striding toward the door. He wrenched it open and glanced back at me, his face a mix of pain, betrayal, anger... all things I hoped to never see on him; he deserved so much better than that. He put as much venom in his voice as he could as he finished with, " _Fuck you_ , asshole. Guess you should have finished the job while you could."

"Kyle, wait!" I scrambled to collect and dress in enough of my clothes from the floor to race out after him, but the hallway was filled only with onlookers glancing interestedly toward me after all the shouting. I threw my hands up in frustration; he could go anywhere, how the fuck was I supposed to find him?

I headed back to the bedroom and rubbed my face in frustration before I gripped the roots of my hair. "FUCK."

Forget cliché; now I was just a fucking asshole.


	10. Strife

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Jess deals with the aftermath of her conversation with Crane while she searches for two missing runners.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no idea why but this chapter was the most difficult to write of the entire story. I'm sorry for the slow update here and the short chapter. 
> 
> But, the good news is that I have the remaining chapters written out so the next few updates shouldn't take me nearly as long. To those of you still reading, thank you for doing so. And special thanks to those of you who have kept commenting and prompting me to continue.
> 
> We're not done here yet.

I paced the floor that day so much that when Lena came to check on me after yesterday’s events, she warned me about wearing a hole in the floor. Something about “all your stupid risk better not be in vain, which it will be if you drop through the floor and break your neck.” Although the floor below was now thankfully zombie-free, a hole leading to the area below wouldn’t be safe. Or ideal. I kept moving without a response. 

By the time light no longer flooded from the window and darkness engulfed Harran, I finally paused. It seemed like he wasn’t going to be coming back tonight. I curled back up in the same spot in his bed and hoped the ceiling would provide more answers than he had. Tomorrow then. He would come back tomorrow.

But he didn’t. After a few shitty hours of sleep, I rolled around to face the intruding light and stretched my back despite its protest. Man, it felt as though the past few days had aged me years. And the bed was much less comfy without a certain loud-mouthed former GRE operative. A pile of clean clothes met me at the edge of the bed; it seemed that Lena had swiped them during yesterday’s conversation and washed them. I would have to express my gratitude at some point. I couldn’t imagine how this Tower could possibly survive without her. Or how I could, for that matter.

Only a few survivors ambled about the corridors as I made for the elevator. A less familiar face passed me but I didn’t give it much thought until a hand on my arm caused me to pause and turn.

“Jess.” The unfamiliar accent washed over me. _Ayo_. He probably needed something if he was willing to be so obvious about holding me still. “Hope you’re doing okay. I have a favor I wanted to ask you.”

Ah, there it was. “Look Ayo, not to sound… I’m really just… Now’s not really the best time.”

“I wouldn’t ask if I had someone else I could depend on. We’re a little short staffed today,” he added with a grimace. 

And that was my fault. The only reason the Tower’s most dependable and noble runner was likely somewhere far from the Tower was me. I could either waste time trying to track him down or attempt to manage damage control in his wake. And find a way to stop letting guilt get the best of me along the way, apparently. At least running errands for Ayo would help the Tower with what it needed _and_ possibly put me in his path. “I’m sorry, Ayo. You’re right. What can I do to help?”

Ayo’s kind eyes crinkled as he waited out my internal battle. “There are two runners who went out toward the Cauldron yesterday and have not yet checked back in. I’m not sure if they’re out of radio signal or just got stuck at a safe house, but they were supposed to bring back some DROPS. Without them bringing anything back, we’re starting to worry about our supplies getting low.”

“So… You want me to track them down, run for a DROP, go scavenging…?” I asked. Doing all of those was a tall order that not even Kyle could accomplish in a run. Plus, I couldn’t really search for him while I ran all those errands at once.

“If you could just raise them on the radio and see if they need help that would be ideal. We’re expecting a DROP around noon today. If they can get it, great. If there’s something wrong get them out of there. Only go for the DROP if they’re safe,” Ayo listed. “The priority is them.”

Hm. Doable, I guess. “Sure thing, Ayo. I’m on it.”

He moved the hand on my arm up to my shoulder in a more reassuring gesture. “Thanks, Jess.”

I continued on to the door marked ‘HEADQUARTERS’ and ducked inside. Brecken leaned over the large printed map of the city while he absentmindedly scratched his nose with the eraser of a pencil. There were less bandages on his head today; a hopeful sign. I cleared my throat and he squinted up in surprise.

“What can I do for you?”

“I’m going out to find some runners and do some errands for Ayo. Can you do me a favor while I’m out?”

Brecken frowned. “Are you sure you’re good to go out after the other day? Did Lena give you the okay?”

At least I didn’t have to lie about this. “Yeah, she said I’m fine. Checked on me last night and this morning. I’m sorry about yesterday. I shouldn’t have worried you like that when you’ve got enough shit going on.”

He waved a hand in a nonchalant gesture; it was quite a departure from his anger yesterday. “I’m sure Crane punished you like he said he would for me.” The suggestive eyebrow raise that accompanied the salacious remark brought a slight flush to my cheeks. He continued, “Look, I think I was right to give you a hard time about that but I do appreciate you clearing the floor. It’ll take some time to get over what happened but I do think it’ll benefit us all in the long run. We can’t afford to lose any space like that again.” He clapped hand on my shoulder, much like Ayo had (and seriously, what was with guys and that gesture), and added, “But seriously. One idiot around here running off to complete solo suicide missions is already too much for us. So at least take him with you next time.”

“That’s kinda what I wanted to talk to you about before I head out.” I swallowed. “If he comes by the Tower today or if he radios in will you let me know?”

Brecken’s expression changed to mild confusion but thankfully the man asked no questions. “Sure thing. Be careful out there, and if you need anything at all, let me know.”

 

 

Ayo and Brecken’s exchanges as well as the stretch that came with running for the rooftops lifted my spirits. Even if I’d only rested for a day, I had missed the action of the city; missed the action of making a death-defying run for the supplies we need to live. Huh. _We_. I was coming to find that the safety of these people was weighing ahead of my GRE objectives. It was easy to see how Crane spiraled down this path now that I had gained an understanding of how things truly were in the quarantine zone. It seemed like I was becoming as much of a staple in the Tower as Crane was. At least if Crane didn’t come back I still had a place hunting supplies and fighting for the Tower. 

I forced the depressing thought out of my mind. Crane or no Crane, there were still two runners outside that may or may not be depending on me to get them home. I couldn’t afford to waste time. 

The Cauldron area seemed like a good start if Ayo was right. I followed the ramps and slopes that paved the way and only stopped when a particularly loud sound caught my eye. Nothing stood out above the ordinary, though; the dead were particularly restless today for some reason. They dragged and echoed noise throughout the alleyways that reached even the rooftops. 

Finally, my ears caught something that overrode the normal hum of ambling bodies. The steady _whum-whum-whum_ of a large-block engine failing to start.

I traced the sound to the area’s local hostel. The tall gated walls surrounding the area were promising despite the city bus that had crashed through the iron between two cement blocks. Almost good enough for a safe zone minus the zombies that clamored around the bus and banged for the morsels inside. The yells that billowed from the bus were tinged with panic and only spurred the zombies on further.

As I clambered over the top of the bus and into the semi-contained area around the hostel my gaze met a pair of terrified young eyes. “Can you hear me?” The poor kid who couldn’t have been more than early twenties sounded hysterical. I did not blame him one bit. All those people in the bus counting on him while fuckin’ zombies pounded on the side of the bus was enough to drive anyone crazy.

“Quit it with the engine, kid!” I hoped he could hear me over the humming of the block. “You’re just bringing more of the fuckers here. Can you do that for me?” 

“I…” Said kid hung his head for a second to clear his mind before he met my gaze and huffed a long-suffering sigh, as though at himself. “of course. Let me help—”

I couldn’t help the frown that formed at the thought. “Not a chance, kiddo. Let me handle this.” 

After the last of the ambling dead had been dispatched by my trusty machete, which was glad to see some action after such a long break, I headed for the gate. It closed with one solid heave and locked with a turn of a sturdy latch. Now, I felt solid in my faith in the place as a safe zone. As I worked the kid ushered survivors out of the bus. I approached him and said, “Thanks, I appreciate your help.”

“Kristov.” He extended a hand to me and I shook it, confused at the familiarity of the name that rattled around in my skull. “Thanks for your help.”

“Ayo was worried about you.” I hoped my expression was stern enough to prevent the kid from doing something this reckless in the future. One Rahim was bad enough. I couldn’t imagine the headache in their wake if he and the younger Aldemir ever teamed up. “But I’m glad you’re okay now. You should check in with him.” After one last glance at the settled survivors, I turned my attention in other directions. “Any idea where the other missing scout is?”

Kristov’s nose scrunched up in thought. “It’s Omar’s friend. I just met him yesterday. When we set out for the Cauldron, he and Omar were talking about what to do about Rais’ men.” Kristov coughed at my expression and added, “He talked about retaking Zere’s place. Setting up a new safe house where the trailer was that can be used to vet newbies such as ourselves to make sure we’re worth the time before they even get to the gym.”

I nodded. Not a bad idea but, if the fact that this friend hadn’t checked in was any indication, terrible execution. “Is he still there?” Once I received Kristov’s confirmation, I checked my machete for damage and headed out that way. The late afternoon sun was harsh. The glare felt not unlike what I’d felt the other day from a certain hard-headed runner.

_If I’d just been honest with him upfront…_

_Focus, Jess_. I shoved the thought out of my mind as I dropped into the old safe zone. An impressive sight met me as I took stock of the area. Much of the old burned material had been cleared away and used to reinforce the bottoms of the gates. The metal work had been fortified and all holes closed from where Suleiman’s men had burst in to attack the old trailer. This couldn’t have been done in a day; it seemed more like Omar’s friend had been thinking about this for a long time. Hell, longer than I’d even taken to plan my assault on the eighteenth floor.

Gotta give the kid props there.

I finally found the teen directing survivors in front of an old one-room building. He looked almost at home giving commands to his helpers as he poured over what looked like structural drawings of the chain link and reinforcements surrounding the zone. None of the older survivors glanced his way disapprovingly. Clearly, the kid knew more than I did about gaining the trust of the people here. 

“Omar’s friend?” The direct approach was probably the best way.

Dark and sharply intelligent eyes darted my way. “Who wants to know?”

I raised my hand in a ‘don’t shoot’ gesture and said, “Ayo. He wanted to know where the hell you were since you weren’t answering your radio.”

A crooked grin emerged as the kid hung his head over the paper. “Ah, shit. Knew I was forgetting something.” He reached a long arm for the radio that was seated under the drawings and I heard the click of the radio call button. “Ayo? This is Amir checking in.”

“Kid, I thought something had happened to you.”

“Sorry Ayo. I’m fine. Jess is even here to help with the recovery effort.” He flashed another easy grin my way before he continued, “I’ll do my best to check in more often.”

“See that you do. Ayo out.”

Something about the kid’s scatterbrained-ness that prevented him from checking in reminded me of Zere’s own absent-minded nature. Maybe it was fate that the kid was here. 

Fate – like turning at the exact moment to catch a glimpse of the grenade that sailed over the top of the old and burned-out trailer.


	11. Now They Are Coming

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Taking back Zere's old research compound proves to be more difficult than anyone thought.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Getting my act together and posting this one sooner than the last because of [SociallyUnacceptableGinger](http://archiveofourown.org/users/SociallyUnacceptableGinger/pseuds/SociallyUnacceptableGinger)  
> Thanks for the prompting lovely! This is the second to last chapter, so we're almost there folks! Thanks for sticking around!

I immediately jumped into action. “Move people, move!” I shoved the closest scout out of the way of the incoming grenade and dove out of its path. An explosion temporarily blinded my senses and left only a steady ringing in my ears as I pushed myself up out of the dirt. The van that had crashed through the semi-repaired chain link fence of the old research compound suddenly opened and unleashed a stream of gun-toting, yellow-and-camo-wearing masked thugs that looked like they meant business. 

Several survivors ducked into what was once Spike’s workshop as the dust rose. I grabbed up the child near me under my arm and barreled toward the building after them. Once I passed him off to someone inside I unstrapped my pistol from my leg and took aim. The thug I’d set my sights on went down as a bullet pierced through his forehead. The rest ducked at the noise.

One of the runners I didn’t know emerged to stand by me. I pulled him to the side as the thugs returned fire. “You need to get those people back to the Tower. I’ll do my best to try to distract them but you need to get these people to safety right fucking now.”

He looked like he wanted to argue but as I heard another explosive whistle through the air toward us I shoved him back and yelled, “NOW!” I slid forward on one leg, caught the makeshift grenade, and lobbed it back over the van.

“ARE YOU KIDDING ME--”

The explosion sounded and I charged forward, only stopping to slam my back against the van for cover. As one thug ran around it toward the building and the retreating survivors I took him down with a well-aimed bullet to the thigh. He screamed, “ARGH” as he went down; the noise was way too satisfying to hear. I leaned around the edge of the van, pumped out my last bullets in their direction for more cover, and switched in a new clip. From where I faced I noticed what looked like a trail of fire that emitted from Suleiman’s tower toward the building next to it. _A fucking rocket_? Other explosions puffed fire and smoke from the building but I had little time to give consideration to them.

The runner had taken my direction and was now guiding people through a remaining hole in the fence. Another had the street covered and desperately tried to hold back the biters that were now congregating toward the source of the noise. _Fuck_. They were going to get overrun with all of this noise. As I watched, one of the thugs managed to clip a running survivor’s shoulder which brought the man to a quick halt. 

I trusted the dust to give me enough cover and found and lobbed a sizeable rock over the top of the van. Once I heard the men scatter I raced forward. Two went down right off the bat; one with a shot to the chest and the other with a shot to the groin. _Ouch_. The rest ducked from the cover fire and I rushed through the group past the return fire.

“She’s headed that way!” one of them screamed after me. “Stop her!”

That would draw most of them away. I hoped it would be enough to give the rest of the survivors a chance to make a break from the Tower. But this created a whole new set of problems. I sprinted up a nearby ramp and hoisted myself up to a roof. Thuds behind me told me that a few thugs were clumsily following. I zig-zagged from rooftop to rooftop. Bullets raced past and I stumbled as one grazed my arm, shouted “fuck!” and managed to tuck and roll down to the ground below me. 

Sweat poured down my back as I continued onward and looked for the nearest place to jump back up to the safety of the roof. That safety was short lived, however, as I heard a Viral scream rip through the air. More bullets were fired behind me and I heard a loud bang as one of the thugs fell where he probably lay victim to one of the three Virals that had decided to join the chase. 

“Fuck me _running_.” I doubled back and climbed upwards. The thugs tripped over themselves trying to turn around and met the Virals on the ground head on. For extra measure, I turned back to fire three shots in their general direction before I sprinted on back toward the Tower. A quick tip of my head minutes later showed me that there were still three thugs keeping pace behind me. 

_Goddamn it_.

I soared through the air and managed to latch on to the edge of a nearby roof. The drop to the concrete took the breath out of my lungs and I scraped my feet against the side wall, desperate to get up. The men followed. All the months they had to adjust to the city running should have put me at a disadvantage but I felt relief as one fell to the ground below where any chance of survival was cut short by the last tailing Viral. 

Where could I go? Safe houses were only safe from zombies; these guys could follow me right in. And it didn’t seem that their supply of bullets had any end. I made it to another rooftop but this one was populated by a few biters. I surged forward and raised my arms to push through the crowd. One swung and managed to land a powerful blow to my arm. I winced as nails tore through skin as I pushed through the rest of them and hopped down to the roof below. I was rapidly tiring; how long would I have to keep this up?

A sudden burning agony seared through my right thigh and tore any other thoughts from my mind. I cried out as I tripped up and my momentum carried me over the edge of the next roof. The fall forward propelled me to crash through a flimsily made wooden structure atop another building and the resulting noise echoed through the alleyways and off the buildings around me. Pain lanced through my left side as I came to a sudden halt on firm concrete. My mouth opened but only a silent cry came out. Any real noise would have been drowned out anyway by the emergence of more Viral screams nearby.

They were going to come straight for that noise. Despite the searing pain, I turned to look back and saw the thugs coming my way. I aimed carefully, double tapped, and brought one of them down with a shot to the shin. He screamed as he went down and struggled to crawl away as he was swarmed by the ferocious Virals drawn by the noise. The other two thugs stopped for a split second to weigh the odds of saving him.

That gave me enough time to scramble to my hands and knees and turn right. I tumbled from the concrete down to dirt and forced myself to limp on. A nearby building with barred windows provided enough grip for me to haul myself upward again. The two thugs below were still distracted by the Viral appearance. Alarm bells for ‘flight’ sounded loudly in my still-ringing head. I needed to get as far away as I could from all the commotion. 

I looked down. Blood was pouring from the source of the burning on my thigh; a through-and-through gunshot stared back at me, half-way up my upper leg. _Motherfucking fuck_ –

“HEY! THERE YOU ARE!”

 _Fucking fuck_ –

I scrambled forward again. Yellow light was rapidly fading around the city; sunset already. This entire scenario was my worst nightmare. Or anyone’s in this city, really. I was now heading toward the Cauldron area, aware that the safe house there or the slimmest chance at a DROP were the only ways I was going to get out of this mess. 

Provided that I lost my tail, that is. I limped furiously and the adrenaline took over the exhaustion as I stumbled on my bum leg. One rooftop was safe and I made my way to another until I was climbing over into a walled roof area. Heavy footsteps pounded on metal behind me but it seemed to be only one set now. I slipped a throwing knife from the strap of my backpack, kissed it for luck, and flung it backward with my good arm, praying for the best. 

A garbled grunt from behind me told me I’d met some kind of mark and I felt confident enough to turn around.

Big mistake. 

He was suddenly over the wall and on me quick enough that he knocked the pistol from my hands. Hot breath pulsed in my face as the man tackled me to the ground. My own breath was once again forced from my lungs and as I gasped for air, the man reached for the throwing knife embedded just below his collarbone. 

“You fucking _bitch_ , now I got you!” He reared back, rifle in one hand, throwing knife in another. 

I summoned the last of my strength in my bad leg and kicked up. A cry of agony told me I’d met the fleshy mark and I surged up to push the disarmed man. He slipped backwards off me and a resounding crack echoed around us as his head met the side wall. I leaped forward and wrenched the gas mask off his face. A non-descript face met me; one covered with stubble containing dazed blue eyes. I grabbed the tuft of short hair on his head, pulled it forward, and slammed it backwards with my remaining force. Once, twice, three times; I kept going and cried out in desperation until the back of his skull was nothing but a bloody, fragmented mess on the ground beneath me. 

With that done, I scooted backward until my back hit the wall across the way. The silence that was broken only by my heavy breathing was odd to me after so much noise and commotion. _Chaos_ , as Rais had promised. Whatever had been happening at his tower, he’d made sure to make a lasting impact on the rest of us. I wondered briefly how many of the survivors form the ambush had actually made it back to the Tower safe.

The burning in my leg brought me back to what was important. I gripped the handle of the throwing knife and used it to tear off one of my shirt sleeves, followed by the other. This was exactly why I stood by wearing long sleeves even in this heat. With the ease of practice I tore both open, tied them together, and looped the length around my leg over the bullet hole. I tied it tight and hoped that would at least stop some of the bleeding. 

Fuck. There was no pretending my odds of surviving a shot like this here were anything but slim to none. The Tower loomed far enough away that my heart sank at the thought of that walk. 

I would probably bleed out before I limped half way there. 

At least being able to lean calmly against the edge had slowed the rapid blood flow. Stillness had bought me a little bit more time. Except that time exactly what I was running out of; the sun was dipping down past the horizon. Night was coming. My first thought went to radioing for help but before I could remove the yellow lifesaver from my backpack, a Viral suddenly bounded up over the wall and lunged straight for me, hands outstretched, violently shrieking its intent.

“FUCK–” I raised my hands and grabbed the wildly flailing arms but the thing was fucking quick. The scrambling feet pushed me backwards and I was in danger of toppling over the ledge to the pavement below. In one swift motion I let go of one of its arms and lunged for the throwing knife. The arm that swung up suddenly burned with the sensation of teeth suddenly met down to the bone. I cried out, dropped the throwing knife into my other hand while it was occupied, and thrust it through the skull that was hanging on to my radius like a rabid dog.

The jaw loosened and the Viral fell limp. 

And that was when the first Volatile scream sliced through the darkening sky.

I paled. The Volatiles were out early, no doubt drawn out from all of the noise caused by both me and the pursing thugs. Heavy bare feet pounded on the dirt and metal near me and I drew in a quick breath. Heavy breathing scaled the side of the building. 

_This is it. This is how it ends. Ripped apart by a Volatile. At least you saved a few lives in the process. Maybe Kyle won’t completely hate your guts now_.

A large body landed on the ground in front of me and I closed my eyes. Menacing chattering sounded far too close for comfort and I found myself longing for the harsh UV blueness that I’d encountered that first day I landed in Harran. Shuffling nearby told me the Volatile was moving and looking either for or at something. _Sniffing_ , too, from the sound of it. Motherfucker could probably smell my fear.

 _Come on! Just get it out of the way. I’m ready_.

And then suddenly the intimidating panting bolted away.

Slowly, I opened my eyes to the fading light and an empty rooftop. _Of course_. The Viral’s body on top of me had acted as camouflage. I breathed a huge sigh of relief and gently removed my backpack far enough to dig out the radio. I winced as my scratched arm brushed against the walls of the pack. 

Ayo’s voice emerged as I removed the radio. _Remember everybody, get to the nearest safe house and wait until dawn. Good night, and good luck_. 

I was close enough to the Tower that Brecken himself would be able to get me from my spot if necessary. I raised the radio to my face–

 _Can anybody hear me? This is Kyle Crane_.

I stopped short. _Kyle_. It was the first time in days I’d heard his voice. He was slightly out of breath but he sounded okay. _Thank God_. 

_Rais… Rais is dead. Fucker got what he deserved_

Brecken’s voice chimed in. _Jesus Christ, mate, where are you now?_

There was a pause. _I’m on top of his tower, and I could really use some help getting back_.

The radio fell from my hands. Brecken wouldn’t have enough runners to send out for the both of us, not after the attack by Suleiman’s men. And if it came down to it, I knew without a doubt that Brecken would choose to go after me first. While it was true that I was closer he would also see Crane as more capable of getting himself back. And at this moment he’d be right. I was in no shape to get myself back to the Tower but I had no idea what condition Crane was in. I could try to wait it out long enough that they could get him first and then come for me. _Fat chance_ , a snide voice in my head replied. 

That was my decision to make. After everything, it was the least I could do for Crane. He would do much more good for the people here. And they would miss having him around. They needed something like him, a permanent fixture, someone giving the people hope. 

A hero.

 _We’re on the way, mate. Don’t move, we’ll get you to safety_.

I couldn’t compete with that. I left the radio abandoned by my side and tore off the zip-up hoodie that the Viral was wearing. Those sleeves were also shredded to create another makeshift bandage. By this point, my leg had already bled through the first bandage but I used the second to cover up the bite mark leaking blood onto the concrete. I’d gotten myself fucking bitten, anyway. At least now I would be one less person sucking Antizin out of the stores if I didn’t make it. 

Defeated, I leaned back further against the wall and breathed a heavy sigh. Now all that was left was to wait.


	12. Praise the Sunlight

What felt like an eternity later I waded back to alertness. My head was swimming through thick mud. The sudden awareness, I realized, was from all the activity emitting from my radio. Pitch blackness met my eyes. It was definitely late at night now, although the Viral and Volatile sounds so heavy in this area from the earlier noise had significantly died down.   
Nausea rushed straight to my stomach. I braced through the pain, turned my head with difficulty, and promptly emptied the contents of my stomach over the side of the building. The sensation left me painfully coughing over the edge and gripping at the ground underneath me. Said ground, I noticed, was drenched in blood. Shot in the leg, ah, I remembered now. An ache pounded through my head, making it feel like someone was crushing it under a sturdy knee. 

I was surprised I wasn’t dead yet. 

The radio jumped to life next to me again.

_Jess? Jess! Come in, Jess!_

Brecken. Or Crane. Or possibly both? My muddled mind couldn’t tell. I gradually realized from the context of the noise that they were conversing. 

_She still hasn’t returned after the attack? Fuck, she’s got to be around here somewhere_. 

_She’s not by me, mate. She’s got to be closer toward the Cauldron area_.

My hand found the device next to me and I exhausted a large amount of strength squeezing the talk button. “Guys, I’m…”

_Fuck, is that her? Jess?!_

I rubbed my eyes. The pounding behind them was growing unbearable. “I’m… here. Brecken’s right. I’m close to Cauldron…”

More noise came from the radio but I lost the strength to grip it and leaned back again. I wasn’t going to make it, no matter how fast they ran. I struggled to take in calm breaths, but it was no use. The pain in my leg was slowly fading to be replaced with nothing, no feeling at all; surely not a good sign. My body shook violently and I bit down on a loud cry. The shakes grew closer together, bringing my agony close to the brink. 

_Oh God, make it stop_

A seizure. That had to be what this was. I’d no idea how long I’d been waiting on the rooftop but it was apparently long enough that my body had begun reacting to the bite. I leaned up and fell sideways, collapsing to rest on my side as I waited out the tremors. My vision blurred, and things began to fade.   
Hushed whispers sounded around me. _Great, just what I need. More fucking zombies. At least these ones were polite enough to mind my aching head_. Something reached for me with a powerful and strong grip. As I was moved, pain exploded behind my eyelids. Darkness. I always knew it was going to end in darkness. I cried out one last time before darkness finally took over. 

 

 

An intense light cutting through my closed lids was the first thing I was aware of when I woke. The harshness tickled at a headache that remained. I attempted a groan at the injustice of it but found that my throat was far too dry to allow for any noise. The realization finally hit me. 

_I’m awake? How in the fuck_ –?”

Slowly, I became more aware of my body. My head was, not surprisingly, far from the only thing that hurt. My left arm burned, itched, where the bite was. I felt the pressure of gauze wrapped around that and my other arm. My left shoulder ached from where I’d taken the bad fall off the roof. It felt like my collarbone had been shifted several inches. Heavy pressure also pressed against my leg. _Oh, that’s right_. I’d been shot. _Fuckers_. I strained and wiggled toes on both feet, ecstatic to note that I still had both; I hadn’t lost that leg. 

There was an additional pressure I couldn’t account for on my hand. Lighter than the gauze, and as I stretched out my fingers, unmoving. 

I opened my eyes. The unforgiving sunlight that had assaulted my eyelids momentarily blurred my vision. The pressure on my hand was another hand. A scratched and scarred, tanned hand with a skinny wrist. The movement of my head jerking up to look pained me, but it was worth it when I was rewarded with looking at Kyle Crane. 

He looked about as bad as I felt. His eyes were ringed slightly red around the edges and he had _dark_ circles under them; both signs of having not slept in a while. A light bruise had spread across one cheek, a cut across the other. But all in all, he looked like he was going to be okay. Brown eyes met mine until he closed his as he heaved a huge sigh.

“Jesus fucking– Christ on a crutch…” The steady stream of expletives out of that mouth would normally have been amusing had he not looked so haggard. I wanted to say something, anything, but I opted for pointing toward water on the desk beside the bed. His bed, I realized. I was in his room. He handed me the water bottle and I took a few experimental sips. No point in making myself sick again by drinking too quickly. 

“What…” Although I found that once I could speak, I couldn’t formulate an intelligible question.

He sighed again, and as he accepted the water bottle back from me, he said quietly, “I didn’t think you were going to wake up.”

I stretched out my hands and feet again in an attempt to regain control over my shaky muscles. “To be honest, me fucking either. So, how the fuck did that happen, then?”

The ghost of a smile twitched on his lips. “Brecken and I found you on a rooftop near the Cauldron area. After you went missing for a couple of hours. What the hell were you thi¬–”

An anger I hadn’t realized I’d been holding on to suddenly surged up like vomit. Before I’d even had time to think about what I was saying, I snapped, “Don’t you dare fucking sit here and ask me _what I was thinking_.” The effort of spitting out such a sentence had me wincing in pain but I refused to back down now that this anger had started to let itself out. The stubbornness that accompanied it had me sitting up for dramatic effect as well. “What I was _thinking_ , is that while we were ambushed by Kadir _fucking_ Suleiman’s idea of a good time, I was the only one that was there to do anything about it. So yeah. How stupid of me to shield survivors, gun down a bunch of rifle-toting motherfuckers who liked the idea of aiming at a _child_ for target practice shits and giggles, and lead the rest of them away so that a bunch of people actually had a chance to get away with their lives. Because I was the only _present_ capable person that had enough tactical training to handle a situation like that. But you’re right. What was I _thinking_?”

He opened his mouth and then closed it without saying a word, looking stunned as he did so.

“Yeah. I get that you took the big motherfucker out. I heard. Don’t even get me started on how stupid that measure probably was, or how many risks you probably took to get there.” 

I paused to draw in another painful breath, at which point he opened his mouth with more conviction and he said, “I–”

“Do I sound like I’m even close to being done?” 

He closed his mouth again at the quietly stern tone of my voice, the ghost of the smile making another appearance. “Go ahead, little lady,” he murmured.

I kept my face relatively calm as I continued. “So yeah. I get what you did. I can’t imagine what it took to do what you did. I know what Suleiman was doing to the people here, and believe me when I say I know how important that file was to get back. And I get that you left the Tower because of me in the first place. Because of what I did. But don’t you sit there like a goddamn hypocrite and act like I could have done anything else in the situation other than the steps I took. Because I was here for these people when they needed it. You weren’t.”

Crane stared back at me to make sure that I was done, but even then, he said nothing. Trying to formulate a response to that, if I had to guess. Ringing, shrill and uninvited, sounded from the desk beside me. My radio. My brow narrowed in confusion, as did his, and I picked it up to accept the call.

“Harrison.”

_Harrison, listen up. We’re here in the city, and we know Crane has the data. We absolutely have to get our hands on that information before that double-crosser decides to do something drastic with it. And we know you’re probably with him right now_.

I glanced up. Crane’s eyes widened slightly as they met me.

_This is exactly what your mission was created for. This is what your training has led to. We want him dead. We need the file and the research he has with him. This is your chance to get out of that place_.

I heaved my legs off the bed. My toes met the floor and I leaned up, grunting in pain as I stood. Crane stood as well, watching me with uncertainty in his eyes. He was on edge, ready to assume a defensive stance, as I shuffled around to the foot of the bed.

_We’re aware of how difficult it might be, after seeing him deal with Rais_ –

I reached the window and grabbed the edge with my less-bum arm. _Man, I’m a mess_. Crane watched, brow narrowed and mouth open, as I managed to heave the window upward. Fresh, warm air rushed in through the small space.

– _so we’re prepared to double the figure we offered you to begin with. For him, and for the information he has with him. That should be no problem for you now_.

A pause hung in the air, where the GRE was waiting for my response and Crane was waiting for my movement. After all the bullshit in the past 24 hours, I stopped for a few seconds and paused to bask in the consideration of what that doubling meant for the work here and the thought of finally being removed from a city that had more things trying to kill me daily than the Australian Outback.

And then I promptly tossed the radio out of the open window before sliding it shut and calmly returning to sit on the bed. “Now. Where did we leave off?”

Crane stared at me open mouthed, still processing what just happened. “Um. I… You…?”

I rolled my eyes, powering through the pain that motion brought. “Kyle, if I’d really wanted to kill you, you would have been dead the second I first arrived at the Tower. If you haven’t thought about all the opportunity I’ve had in the _zombie apocalypse_ to be able to kill you and make your body disappear without any questions asked, then you’re more brain damaged than Lena thought.” When it appeared he wasn’t going to start talking anytime soon, I prompted, “What the hell were they talking about, data? What happened with them? Clearly you’ve spoken.”

Thankfully, he found his voice again soon after I had spoken. “After Jade took Zere’s research to Sector Zero, Rais got a hold of her.” His darkening gaze told me that ended about as well as I could expect from Suleiman.

_Fuck, not Jade too_.

“He took the data and he made a deal with the GRE.” Crane sat back down as well, looking less apprehensive of me now. “They promised to take him out of Harran on a helicopter if he brought Zere’s research to them. Assholes probably needed a chance at a cure to recover from the PR nightmare this whole quarantine situation has created for them. He… he reached me on the radio, told me he was leaving, and challenged me to try to stop him. So I did.”

Despite the hell I’d been through, I couldn’t imagine what Suleiman had waiting for Crane when he got there. “What did he have in mind?”

Crane rubbed his face and said, “A lot of climbing and a lot of zombies. But look, that’s the last thing I wanna talk about right now. What I said to you, before I left. I didn’t mean–”

The hard glint returned to my eye. “Don’t try to tell me you didn’t mean it. You meant every word when you thought that was my intention. And I’m not going to lie to you, that was my intention. Until…” I sighed. The clichés sounded worse out loud. “Until I saw what you were doing for these people and I got to know the guy behind the arrogance.”

He frowned in mock offense to my words. “Arrogance? Me?”

I laid back down on the bed. “You were right. I should have taken the chance when I had it.” When he sputtered in indignation, I cracked a small smile. “No, I couldn’t do it. I knew I wasn’t going to be able to finish my mission before I slept with you if that makes you feel any better.”

“Well, I did mean everything I had said before I yelled at you, too. So. Yeah, it does.” He placed his hand on mine again, just below the bite. His gaze passed over the bandage and he frowned. After rubbing his thumb over it ever so lightly, he muttered, “I should have been there.”

The anger I’d felt before yelling had subsided considerably, and I didn’t want him feeling worse about this than he needed to. “I knew what I was getting into here. I knew the risks. And you were busy saving all of our asses, as usual.”

“Yeah, but your ass is the only one I’m particularly interested in,” he said with a wink. After looking me up and down, he added quietly, “You nearly died.”

I snorted. “I was sure I was going to. The second I got shot I knew I was fucked. That last fucker almost got me, but even after beating him I was sure I was going to bleed out. Thank fuck I had that Viral for cover. I came face-to-face with a Volatile.” I shuddered at the memory. “I don’t think I’ll ever be able to scrub that image from my mind.”

“I told you I was going to do everything I could do to make sure that didn’t happen. Definitely failed there.” His voice was bitter, bitter still probably from the loss of Jade and from finding me the way he did.

“No, you didn’t,” I said firmly. “I’m still here. We’re still here. Suleiman is gone, which means we’ll all be a lot safer now. He was the biggest threat we had here.”   
He gently lifted my hand and planted a kiss on the wrapped Viral bite. I liked seeing the big softie he really was behind-the-scenes. 

“So what now?” I asked. 

“I don’t know what happens next,” he admitted. “But I do know I’m supposed to be here. And with Zere’s research, Dr. Camden might actually have a chance at developing a cure. So once things die down, I’m going to take him the research. You do realize you threw your only lifeline out of here out the window, right?” he added.

I raised the hand he was still holding for emphasis. “I threw my lifeline out of here when I got bitten. There’s no chance in hell they would have let me out knowing that.” I scooted over and patted the area next to me. He unlaced his boots, stripped down to his boxers, and climbed in beside me. I shifted gingerly until I could half-drape myself over him again for comfort. “Past chances are past chances. All I know is I’m supposed to be right here, too. Maybe we’ll be able to give these people a real chance at good lives again.”

He rubbed my back, placed the gentlest of kisses on my lips. “For now, being right here is all I need. Who else is going to look after you when you come up with such stupid-ass plans?” he teased.

“ _I’m the one that comes up with stupid-ass plans_?!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And just like that, we have reached the end! It's a very bittersweet feeling to end the first piece of writing I began here on AO3. Thanks to all of you who have been following me since the beginning; I know the updates were slow, but I really appreciate those of you who have stuck around. I may come back and explore more writing between Jess and Crane later, but for now, this is the end!

**Author's Note:**

> I'm so excited to begin a work for a fandom I love so much. This is my first attempt at fanfiction, and I hope that those of you reading enjoy it. I'm going to try to keep it canon compliant for the most part; however, since I am writing from the point of view of an OC, I will not be including every event from the Dying Light timeline since she'll be doing her own thing sometimes. If you notice any mistakes or want to submit feedback to me, I'm happy to hear it!


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